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A MEMORIAL 



OF 



WILLIAM SEVER LINCOLN, 



Colonel 34th Mass. Infantry. 



Brevet Brisr.-Gen. U. S. Volunteers. 



i8ii.— 1889. 



-^T^. 



/• SI 3 



187 -J ^ 



"Sleep now, dear heart, in peace — 
Sleep, for each last farewell 
Is over now ! 't is time for rest 
More sweet than tongue can tell. 

Sleep now, dear heart, in peace. 
Thy labor's day is done — 

The sword and shield are laid aside 
This hour the strife is won ! " 



TO THE MEMBERS 

34th MASSACHUSETTS INFANTRY, 

THIS SIMPLE MEMORIAL OF ONE WHO WAS 

PROUD TO BE "OF THEM," 

IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 

L. L. 



[Editorial, Worcester Evening Gazette, Nov. 9th, 1SS9.] 

GENERAL LINCOLN. 



We are pained to learn the'death of General William S. Lin- 
coln, although the event is not unexpected. He has for a num- 
ber of years been in failing health, and several times his illness 
has reached a point which appeared a fatal crisis. But (ieneral 
Lincoln was made of hardy stuff. In spite of dangers and bul- 
lets, wounds and pains, and the loss of vigor which comes to 
most men with declining years, he lived to round out to the fiill 
a long life. For a man not exactly in public life. General Lm- 
coln lias always been prominent as a citizen. The son of an 
honored governor of Massachusetts, he inherited sterling quali- 
ties, coumge, a strong will, faultless honesty and independence 
in opinion, a manly and complete integrity of purpose. Gen- 
eral Lincoln's career in the war was distinguished, but he did 
not push himself forward ; he was not ambitious. He took 
what came to him ; he filled every position in which he was 
placed with intelligence and scrupulous fidelity ; he did not 
seek promotion or prominence. Bred to the law, his quiet and 
simple tastes led him, after the war, to take up the work of till- 
ing his paternal acres. He managed his farm in a business-like 
way and found profit and pleasure in it. He did not live m 
obscurity ; his public services outside of politics were many 
and important. But his life like his character, was quiet, un- 
demonstrative, natural. 

General Lincoln made some enemies. His sturdy, honest 
independence would never allow him to conceal his opinion or 
talk diplomatic non-committals. He had very warm friends 
who appreciated his character, and none were more steadfast 
and sincere than the old veterans, "his men," who knew him 
so well and so thoroughly believed in him. In another part of 
this issue the details of his life are given. 



[Worcester Evening Gazette, Nov. 9, 1S89.J 

A HERO GONE. 



Death of General William S. Lincoln. An Eventful 

Life. An Exemplary Citizen and a 

Brave Soldier. 



Gen. William S. Lincoln died at his home, Willow Farm, 
this city, last evening, after a nearly two weeks' illness, caused 
by that dread disease, angina pectoris, from which he had been 
subject to repeated attacks for the past ten years of his life. 

In more than one of these several illnesses his life has been 
despaired of, but his strong constitution, determined will and 
wonderful rallying power brought him safely out of them all. 
But his relentless malady again attacked him on Sunday, Octo- 
ber 27, and this time it won the victory over the brave hero, 
who had on many a field of strife and carnage faced death and 
escaped its shafts. 

In previous attacks of the disease he had hovered near to the 
door of death, so near that all hope of life had nearly fled, yet 
he rallied again and again. It was because of his repeated 
narrow escapes from a fatal result of his illness that, until the 
past two days, his family and friends earnestly hoped he would 
survive this last attack. But this result was not to be realized, 
and the brave soldier and honored citizen has ffone from amonof 
us. 

William Sever Lincoln was born in Worcester, November 
21st, 1811, and therefore lacked but a few days of having com- 
pleted his 78th year. He was the second son of Levi and Pen- 
elope Winslow Lincoln. It need scarcely be said here that his 
father was one of the greatest of American statesmen in his 
day, that for nine years he was the honored, chief magistrate of 
Massachusetts, and that his name is one of the brightest and 
noblest in the annals of the Commonwealth's history. The ut- 
most care and attention was given to the education of young 
William S., and at the early age of 14 years he entered Bow- 



doin College, Brunswick, Maine, one yeav in advance of his 
class. He therefore graduated when only 17 years old, and 
with the class of 1828. Only two years before, and from the 
same institution, had been graduated Longfellow and Haw- 
thorne. Thus the first year of his college life young Lincoln 
had these two for contemporaries. 

Immediately after his graduation Mr. Lincoln returned to 
Worcester, and entered upon the study of law in the office of 
his uncle, Enoch Lincoln, and Rejoice Newton. Before he at- 
tained his majority he was admitted to the bar and began its 
practice in the town of Millbury, then a town not greatly infe- 
rior in size and importance to the Worcester of that year. He 
continued the practice of law in Millbury for two years. In 
1835, when in his 24th year, Mr. Lincoln married Miss Eliza- 
beth, the eldest daughter of Mr. George A. Trumbull, then a 
prominent business man and real estate owner in Worcester, 
and after whom the street and square bearing the name is 
called. 

In 1837, Mr. Lincoln, like thousands of other New England 
young men, caught the Western fever, which had its culmina- 
tion in his pulling up stakes and moving to the then flourishing 
town of Alton, Illinois. He had little more than become estab- 
lished in Alton, and begun practice, when the famous Lovejoy 
tragedy transpired. The killing of Rev. Elijah Parish Love- 
joy on the 7th of November, 1837, is regarded by some as the 
real beginning of the War of the Rebellion or at least as the first 
overt act in that conflict. In the trial that followed the death 
of Lovejoy, Mr. Lincoln was the town's attorney, and there- 
fore his name is linked with, thus early, an event which, at 
the time of its occurrence, convulsed the whole country in in- 
tense excitement, and the story of which will ever be a thrill- 
ing page in the history of the anti-slavery conflict. 

Alton, at the time Mr. Lincoln first made it his home, gave 
rich promise of becoming an important city. Chicago had 
hardly been founded and there were no particular facts about it 
then to give it especial importance. But the promises about 
Alton were not fulfilled, and after a residence of about ten 



8 

years Mr, Lincoln returned to Worcester. While in Alton he 
secured a large practice, however, but it seems that he longed 
for the home of his boyhood, a yearning not at all strange when 
it is remembered that the love of home is so pronounced a trait 
in the whole Lincoln family. Mr. Lincoln was one of the few 
attorneys of Worcester to be admitted to practice before the 
United States District Courts. 

On his return from the West his love for rural pursuits, which 
in the Worcester family of Lincolns amounts to a passion, led 
him to engage in farming. His farm at this time comprised a 
large portion of what is now called the West side, and his farm 
residence, which he built for himself, was what is now the home 
of his son Levi Lincoln, on Elm Street. When he first occu- 
pied this house there were only three others that might be seen 
while standing upon its front porch. The farm as late as 1850 
maintained 18 head of stock. Later Mr. Lincoln lived on a 
farm in Quinsigamond, which he inherited from his uncle, John 
W. Lincoln, who received it through successive generations 
from the original grant. This farm Mr. Lincoln sold to Mr. 
Ichabod Washburn and bought Willow Farm, which was ever 
after his home. 

In his life Mr. Lincoln did much to develop the agriculture 
of Worcester County. Every measure designed for the im- 
provement of it found him an active supporter and warm friend. 
He had been honored with the Presidency of the Worcester 
Agricultural Society, and was, to the last, a promoter of its in- 
terests. At the last annual meeting of the Society Gen. Lin- 
coln was present and participated in the procedings. He spoke 
upon several of the questions that came before the meeting, and 
those present will recall with what earnestness and vim he en- 
tered into the spirit of the meeting. 

Early in life Gen. Lincoln manifested a love for military 
affairs, and when (juitc young he became captain of the Wor- 
cester Light Infantry, then one of the finest military companies 
in the state and one in whose ranks have served from time to time 
men who, later in life, distinguished themselves on the fields 
of battle and in the councils of the nation. His father, Levi 



Lincoln, was the first ensign of the company and one of its 
original members. His uncle, John W. Lincoln, was one of 
its early captains, and under his command it marched to Bos- 
ton in 1814 in the war of 1812. Gen. Lincoln's brother, the 
late D. Waldo, was its commander for three consecutive years, 
thus making three Lincolns of past generations who had com- 
mand of this organization. In this generation it has been cap- 
tained by two sons of the General, Levi and Winslow S. In 
1833, when only 22 years old. Gen. Lincoln was a Lieut. -Col. 
in a militia regiment. The military career of Gen. Lincoln 
had a irlorious consummation in the War of the Rebellion, in 
which he made for himself a name and a fame that shall never 
be forgotten. 

At the time of his enlistment he was considerably beyond the 
age for compulsory military duty, l)ut the fact that the perpe- 
tuity of the Union and the liberties of mankind were in danger 
were incentives enough for him. He entered the service in an 
hour of the Nation's depression, when its armies, then existing, 
had failed to subdue the enemy, and when the fiict that the war 
was the sternest of realities, was at last fully realized. On the 
oro-anization of the 34th Regiment, to which body of soldiers 
it is a proud honor to have belonged, he was commissioned by 
Gov. Andrew as its Lieut. -Colonel. In this regiment it was 
also his great pleasure and satisfaction to have, as a part of it, 
his old command, the Worcester Light Infantry. From the 
beo-innino- of his active service, Gen. Lincoln entered heart and 
soul into the spirit and duty of the hour, and he was at once 
recognized as a brave, skillful and competent officer. 

On the death of Col. Wells of the regiment, Lieut. -Col. Lin- 
coln was promoted to the colonelcy. At the battle of New 
Market, May 15, 1864, he was wounded and captured by the 
enemy. At this battle Capt. W. B. Bacon of Worcester and 
the 34th was killed. For many long and weary weeks Col. 
Lincoln lay in a Rebel prison in Harrisburg, Va. From this 
he, with others of his fellow prisoners, escaped, and after wan- 
dering for 17 days through the country of the enemy he reached 
the Union lines in safety, but as may be imagined in a pitiable 



10 

condition. Sick and wounded as he was, it is singular that 
one of his age could have survived the trials and hardships that 
were his lot while escaping to the Union lines. Gen. Lincoln 
reached the Union camp with terribly swollen feet. While es- 
caping, the general and his companions travelled by night, 
remaining hid in the woods and underbrush by day. They 
avoided every house on the way except when driven to one by 
the pangs of hunger. Once the escaping prisoners went two 
days and two nights without a drop of anything to drink. At 
last they found a pool of water and the general drank a canteen 
full at one draught. Just as they were about to resume the 
fearfully uncertain journey, they concluded to take another 
drink, but the smell of the water was now sickening to them. 
Finally they entered the Union lines, and once again they were 
under the protection of the stars and stripes. 

Gen. Lincoln closed his army career as a Brevet Brigadier- 
General. In the quietness of his home he wrote a history of 
the 34th Regiment. This volume is an exceedingly interesting 
work and is regarded as one of the best fetories of the war as 
far as it goes, extant. The closing pages are devoted to the 
story of his imprisonment and escape. 

In civil life Gen. Lincoln had served as Worcester City Mar- 
shal, and he was once an unsuccessful candidate for the mayor- 
alty, the nomination being pressed upon him. 

General Lincoln's most important public work was his ser 
vice on the Board of Trustees of the Worcester Lunatic Hospi- 
tal. He served for a long series of years, from 1871 to 1879 
and during the building of the immense establishment at the 
Lake, when the outlay was very heavy, and the details of busi 
ness numberless, his administrative abilities were of c^reat ser 
vice to the state. He was a member of the Building^'commit 
tee of the Board, and gave a great deal of time to his duties 
visiting the Lake every day. ' 

On the occasion of the last re-unjon of the 34th Regiment 
Gen. Lincoln, then in feeble health, reviewed the regiment from 
a window in Clark's Building. While the command 7aXZ 
It faced to the front, saluted its old commander, and then gave 



11 

him three cheers. A little incident which happened at the 
same re-union aptly illustrates how the boys of the gallant regi- 
ment regarded Gen. Lincoln and of their love and esteem for 
him. At the business meeting of the command the question of 
the location of the next regimental re-union came up and Capt. 
Levi Lincoln moved that it be Springfield. Just then a soldier 
from Springfield spoke up and moved an amendment to Capt. 
Lincoln's motion to the extent of substituting Worcester for 
Springfield, "for," said he, "I want to see Gen. Lincoln again, 
if possible." The motion, as amended, was adopted without a 
dissenting voice. 

Gen. Lincoln leaves a widow and two sons, Levi and Wins- 
low S. Of his four sons, William, the oldest, died in the Re- 
bellion. He marched through Baltimore with the Sixth Regi- 
ment on the 19th of April, 18G1. George Trumbull, the third 
son, died in this city a few years since. 



[Special Dispatch to the Boston Herald] 

Worcester, Nov. 8, 1889. 

Gen. William S. Lincoln, one of Worcester's oldest and best 
known citizens, died at his home at 10 :30 to-night after a se- 
vere illness of neuralgia of the heart. Gen. Lincoln was the 
son of Gov. Levi Lincoln. He was born in Worcester, Nov. 
22, 1811, was graduated from Bowdoin College in 1830 and 
was admitted to the bar in 1833. He practiced law for a time 
at Alton, 111., where he was city attorney, but he returned to 
Worcester in 1844, and has since lived here, devoting his time 
to caring for his large real estate interests. 

He joined the Massachusetts militia before he was 20 years 
of age, and he maintained an active interest in it all his life. 
He was commissioned lieutenant-colonel on the breaking out of 
the war, and recruited the 34th Regiment, with which he served 
through the war. He w^as made its colonel in 1864, and at the 
close of the war he was brevetted a Brigadier-General for meri- 
torious sei-vice in the Shenandoah Valley. In May, 1864, he 



12 

was wounded in the shoulder in the battle at New Market, Va., 
and was taken prisoner. He escaped from the rebels at Har- 
risburg, Va., just as they were about to send him to Anderson- 
ville prison, and after spending twenty nights between the lines 
reached a Union camp. His wound permanently disabled his 
right arm. 

Gen. Lincoln has l^een president of the Worcester County 
Agricultural Society, member of the board of aldermen, city 
marshal, and was once a candidate for mayor. At the time of 
his death he was president of the 34th Regiment Association, 
and of the Worcester Light Infantry Veteran Association. His 
golden wedding was celebrated Oct. 22, 1885. He leaves a 
widow and two sons. 



[Worcester Evening Gazette, Nov. nth, i8S<;.] 

GEN. LINCOLN'S FUNERAL. 



The funeral of Gen. W. S. Lincoln will be one of the most 
impressive which Worcester has ever witnessed. The arrano-e- 
ments for it are now completed and the ceremony will occur at 
the Church of the Unity at half past 12 o'clock to-morrow. 
Preceding the public ceremony prayers will be held at Willow 
Farm, the general's late residence, and the remains will then ])e 
escorted to the church through Chandler Street, the Boulevard 
and Elm Street. It was announced, Saturday, that Rev. Cal- 
vin Stcbbins and Rev. Edward Everett Hale would officiate at 
the church, but word has been received from Dr. Hale that he 
will be unable to attend and his place will l)e filled by the Rev. 
George S. Ball, chaplain of the 25th Regiment. 

Mr. John Barker has charge of the funeral arrangements and 
is assisted by Mr. H. M. Witter. They have appointed the 
following ushers : Messrs. Stephen Salisbury, A. George Bul- 
lock, Charles F. Aldrich, Edwin Brown, Alexander DeW^itt, 
Charles H. Bowker, C. Willard Hamilton, Rockwood Hoar, 
Linus Childs. 



13 

The bearers will be Mr. J. A. Fayerweather of Westborough, 
to represent the Agricultural Society; Hon. W. W. Rice to 
represent the bar ; Mr. Wra. T. Merrifiekl and Dr. T. H. Gage, 
civilians ; Col. Levi Barker from the Light Infantry Veteran 
Association, and Messrs. C. H. Howland, Wells Willard and 
Henry Bacon to represent the 34th Regiment. Delegations 
will be present from the Light Infantry Veterans, from the In- 
fantry, the Grand Army and the 34th Regiment. The Conti- 
nentals will be represented by the staff and line officers of the 
command and a detail of honorary members. Colonel Hop- 
kins late last night issued special orders, as follows : — 

Headquarters Worcester Continentals, \ 
Worcester, Nov. U, 1889. i 

Special Order, No. 2 : — 

The staff and line officers of the command, with the following detail from 
the honorary members of the Worcester Continentals, who are requested to 
join the officers, are ordered to assemble at the Armory, on Tuesday, the 
12th of November current, at 11 : 45 o'clock a. jl, to attend the funeral ser- 
vices of General William S. Lincoln, one of the bravest and most distin- 
guished soldiers who represented this city in the army of the Union, and an 
honorary member of this corps since its organization. The commanding of- 
ficer deems it most fitting that this detail should be made, as a tribute to one 
whose qualities as a soldier and a citizen, were so eminent as to make his 
interest in us an honor to the command. The detail will wear their respect- 
ive corps badges and the usual mourning emblems. 

detail of honorary members. 

Gen. Josiah Pickett, Sheriff A. B. R. Sprague. 

Capt. John S. Baldwin, Col. Edward J. Russell, 

Capt. James K. Churchill, Capt. William A. Gile, 

Capt. C. H. Pinkham, Lieut. S. W. Goddard, 

Joseph Mason, George Sumner, 

James A. Norcross, John D. Chollar, 

James E. Benchley Capt. Nathaniel Paine, 

Henry A. Marsh, Edwin Ames, 

Charles Baker, Col. E. B. Glasgow, 

Lieut. Nathaniel Liscomb, A. C. Munroe, 

A. P. Marble, Augustus E. Peck, 

Lieut. Willard F. Pond, Elisha W. Sweet, 

Henry S. Pratt. 
By order of 

W. S. B. HOPKINS, Lieutenant-Colonel. 

AARON S. TAFT, 1st Lieutenant and Adjutant. 



14 

Seats in the body of the church will be reserved for the or- 
ijanizatioiis of which Gen. Lincoln was a member. 

A meeting of the local members of the 34th Regimental As- 
sociation was held in the reading room of Grand Army Hall 
yesterday afternoon, to take action on their late president's 
death. Members of George H. AVard Post 10 also attended 
the meeting. It was informal, and various suggestions were 
made. As the Post will not turn out it was thought best for 
all members of the 34th Regiment who could to attend in a 
body, and they will meet at Horticultural Hall for that pur- 
pose at 11 :30 o'clock a. m., to-morrow. 

A large number of out of town members of the regiment are 
expected to attend the funeral. The interment will be at Rural 
Cemetery. 

The music at the services will include selections by a male 
quartette, under the direction of Mr. John N. Morse, Jr. Af- 
ter the services in the church are over, the body will be re- 
moved to the vestibule, to enable the general's friends to have 
one last view of the remains. The organizations with which 
he was connected will remain in the church until the others 
have passed out, and will then form in line to escort the re- 
mains to burial. 

All past members of the 34th Massachusetts Regiment are 
requested to meet in the library room of Horticultural Hall, 
to-morrow, at 11 :30, sharp, for the purpose of attending the 
funeral of their late colonel. 

The Light Infantry will march to the funeral. 

Some 20 meml)ers of the Light Infantry Veteran Association 
met in the headquarters of the organization, rooms 6 and 7, 
Clark's Building, this morning, and took preliminary steps re- 
garding: the meeting to-night, of the Association, to take action 
upon Gen. Lincoln's death. A committee was appointed to 
draft resolutions on the death of their late associate, and pre- 
sent them at this eveningf's meeting^. The committee consists 
of Cols. Barker and Williams, Major Stiles and Capt. Childs. 



15 

[Worcester Evening Gazette, Nov. 12th, 1SS9.] 

GEN. LINCOLN'S OBSEQUIES. 



Adresses by Rev. Calvin Stebbins and Chaplain Ball. 

The funeral of General William Sever Lincoln occurred to- 
day, and was one of the most impressive which has ever been 
held in this city. 

The attendance at the church was large, and many veterans 
from outside the city were present to swell the ranks of his old 
regiment, the 34th. The floral tributes at the bouse, where 
prayers were oflfered, and at the church were unusually beau- 
tiful. 

The ceremony, with its attending martial features, was pe- 
culiarly dignified, and the addresses at the church by Rev. 
Calvin Stebbins and Rev. Geo. S. Ball were in full sympathy 
with the occasion. 

Gen. Josiah Pickett and Major E. T. Raymond had general 
supervision of the various military organizations during the 
day. 

The 34th Regiment. 

The members of the 34th Regiment met in the library of 
Horticultural Hall to do honor to their old colonel. In the 
room were two portraits of Gen. Lincoln, which attracted much 
attention from the veterans. One of them was taken six years 
ago ; the other recently. The soldiers expressed a desire to 
have copies of the latter given them, and this will be done by 
the general's family. 

The ofiicers present were Col. George E. Goodrich, Capt. 
John A. Lovell, Capt. Henry Bacon, Lieut. Fred A. Judd, 
Lieut. R. W. Walker, Capt. H. T. Hall, Capt. D. Holden, 
Capt. Wells Willard, Quartermaster C. H. Howland, Lieut. 
George L. Murdock, Lieut. John E. Caligan. Over 100 mem- 
bers of the regiment were present, and practically all were 
dressed in citizens' clothes, although here and there might be 
seen an army cap and badge, and occasionally a coat of blue. 
The veterans all wore white gloves and the usual mourning em- 



16 

blem. The line was formed shortly after 12 o'clock under 
command of Col. Goodrich and marched to the church. 

The veterans l)ore furled colors, and carried a marker given 
Gen. Lincoln by Gov. Andrew. 

The Light Infantky. 
The Light Infantry, of which Gen. Lincoln was the oldest 
officer, assembled at their armory on Front Street at 11 :45. 
The men were in full uniform and wore the usual emblem of 
mourning. They marched to the church under direction of 
Lieut. Fairbanks. The command was headed by Worcester 
Brass Band, and marched to the muffled beating of the drum. 
At the church they were drawn up and received the remains. 

The Continentals. 
The Continentals marched from their armory to the church, 
under command of Capt. E. A. Wood of Company A. 

DETAIL OF HONORARY MEMBERS. 

Gen. Josiah Pickett, Sheriff A. B. R. Sprague, 

Capt. John S. Baldwin, Col. Edward J. Russell, 

Capt. James K. Churchill, Capt. William A. Gile, 

Capt. C. H. Pinkham, Lieut. S. W. Goddard, 

Joseph Mason, George Sumner, 

James A. Norcross, John D. Chollar, 

James E. Benchley, Capt. Nathaniel Paine, 

Henry A. Marsh, Edwin Ames, 

Charles Baker, Col. E. B. Glasgow, 

Lieut. Nathaniel Liscomb, A. C. Munroe, 

A. P. Marble, Augustus E. Peck, 

Lieut. Willard F. Pond, Elisha W. Sweet, 
Henry S. Pratt. 

Light Infantry Veterans. 
A laro-e delegation of the Worcester Light Infantry Veteran 
Association, under command of Col. J. M. Drennan, marched 
from their headquarters to the church. 

Post 10. 
The Grand Army was well represented. All who attended 
the services appeared in citizens' suits, wearing the badge of 
mourning. Commander A. M. Parker was in command. 



17 

At the House. 

The services at the house began soon after 11 o'clock. There 
were present a very large number of relatives and immediate 
friends, besides the family. The ushers here were Mr. John 
Barker and Mr. Willard Hamilton. The services consisted of 
the singing of " Nearer My God to Thee," by a quartette con- 
sisting of Messrs. John N. Morse, W. F. Merrill, B. A. Bar- 
ber and J. H. CafFerty. Prayer was offered by Rev. Calvin 
Stebbins and the benediction. At the close of the short and 
simple services the funeral cortege was formed and proceeded 
to the church by way of Chandler Street, Park Avenue and 
Elm Street. It was 12 : 20 o'clock on the arrival of the pro- 
cession at the church. Here the Worcester Light Infantry, 
Lieut. Fairbanks commanding, were drawn up in line to receive 
the dead. As the body was taken into the church the Worces- 
ter Brass Band played a choral. Before the arrival of the 
funeral cortege the various organizations attending the funeral 
had entered the church, except the Light Infantry, the guard of 
honor. The last of those to enter the church was the 34th 
Regiment Association, about 70 men. Col. Goodrich command- 
ing. They marched with silent tread and carried their old and 
honored flag under which these same veterans had marched up 
the Shenandoah Valley to victory with their commander, to 
whose voice, now silent in death, the brave veterans had on 
many occasions been wont to respond. The old regimental 
marker was also carried, and both emblems were draped and 
furled. 

There was a large concourse of people in the street, silent 
watchers of the proceedings. The detail of police consisted of 
Patrolmen Garland and Ward and these remained in the vesti- 
bule of the church during the services as did also the Light 
Infantry. 

The Floral Tributes. 
The floral tributes were elaborate and extensive alike, with- 
out exception, beautiful and appropriate to the utmost degree. 
Noticeable among them were a pillow with a ground of English 



18 

ivy leaves, on which was a heart of white chrysanthemums, a 
shoulder strap with star, while at each upper corner was a white 
camelia, and at the right hand corner was a spray of Catherine 
Mermet roses. The heart of chrysanthemums was emblemati- 
cal of the 24th army corps to which the 34th Regiment belonged. 
The shoulder strap consisted of first an outer row of pieces of 
yellow Japanese chrysanthemums, then a row of sapiano roses 
and a field of English violets, with star, the insignia of his 
rank, of yellow immortelles. The entire piece was of exqui- 
site beauty and grace. 

A second pillow was the tribute of the Worcester Light In- 
fantry. The ground work was of white carnations, with pan- 
sies and roses in the corners. In the centre was a field of white 
German stalks with the letters " W. L. I." in blue immortelles. 
There was a basket of white chrysanthemums fringed with ferns, 
the tribute of Mr. and Mrs. George B. Witter. These designs 
were from Thayer's. 

The Light Infantry Veteran Association sent a shield of Eng- 
lish ivy, bearing a scroll of white carnations on which were the 
letters '<W. L. I. V. A." In the centre of the piece was a 
brigadier-general's shoulder strap, with border of yellow chrys- 
anthemums, field of heliotrope and star of yellow chrysanthe- 
mums. This piece, together with a mound of ferns and palms, 
were from Lange's. 

Laid upon the casket were two royal palm leaves, crossed 
and fastened with white satin ribbons. In the old countries 
these leaves are the emblems of the nobility, but in America 
they are emblematical of honor and true manhood, and as such 
they were never more appropriately used than above to-day's 
honored dead. At the house the general's easy chair was 
graced with a floral scarf or tidy of roses. 

There were also numerous tributes in sprays and bouquets. 
All of the above mentioned designs, except the chair scarf, 
were brought from the house to the church, where in addition 
were two floral hearts of a large size, the badge of the 24th 
army corps. Both of these were from the 34th Association, 



19 

one from Worcester and vicinity members, the other from those 
in Springfield and vicinity. 

The one from Springfield Avas made almost wholly of large 
immortelles of the purest white. The design from the Wor- 
cester members had in blue immortelles, on a white field, the 
legend "34th." 

At the Church of the Unity. 

While the Light Infantry stood motionless on guard before 
the Church of the Unity, the various other organizations with 
which Gen. Lincoln was identified filed slowly into the house. 
The 34th Regiment was the last of these to enter, and immedi- 
ately following it was the funeral party. The clergymen, Rev. 
Calvin Stebbins, and Rev. George S. Ball of Upton, chaplain 
of the 21st, headed it, and were followed by the bearers who 
were Mr. J. A. Fayerweather of Westliorough, who represented 
the Agricultural Society; Hon. W. W. Rice, who represented 
the bar ; Mr. William T. Merrifield and Dr. T. H. Gage, civil- 
ians ; Col. Levi Barker from the Light Infantry Veteran Asso- 
ciation, and Messrs. C. H. Rowland, Wells Willard and Henry 
Bacon, who represented the 34th Regiment. 

Upon the casket rested the old commander's cap, sword and 
belt, and a palm branch. Then came the mourners, a large 
company of relatives and intimate friends, who filled the body 
of the church. For the various organizations seats had been 
specially reserved, and everything moved with dignity under 
the direction of Mr. John Barker, Mr. H. M. Witter and the 
following ushers: Messrs. Stephen Salisbury, A. Geo. Bul- 
lock, Charles F. Aldrich, Edwin Brown, Alexander DeWitt, 
Charles H. Bowker, C. Willard Hamilton, Rockwood Hoar, 
Linus Childs, 

The services opened at 12 :30 with singing by the male quar- 
tette, of *'Rock of Ages," and Rev. Calvin Stebbins, pastor of 
the church, read selections from the Scriptures and made an 
earnest prayer. The quartette sang, "No Night There." 



20 

Mr. Stebbins' Addeess. 

Friends and JSfeighbors : We have come together to-day to 
pay our respects to one who, as a man, has gone in and out 
among us for fifty years. 

Those who knew him at all will bear me out in this state- 
ment, that such was the nature of his mind and heart that had 
he been consulted, he would have preferred to have had these 
services held in the quiet of his own home. 

I doubt not that instead of these formal exercises, he would 
have chosen a few sentences, full of courage and trust, 
wrung from the great souls of old, and an earnest prayer 
offered that the divine blessing might soften and mellow the 
sorrows of his friends. 

He would have chosen this because of his simple modesty ; 
not that modesty that comes from fear, but from a knowledge 
that publicity often runs into show. 

But his family have done wiselj^ as well as kindly in coming 
to this place and in permitting us to share their sorrows. 

The place that Gen. Lincoln occupied in our life was quiet 
but eminently one of usefulness to the country, the state and 
the city, and in later years of personal service to individuals. 
He was bred to the law but never pursued it with any great 
enthusiasm, and yet it was a happy circumstance, for he was 
able by means of it to contribute more than was probal)ly 
known to his most intimate friends to alleviate the sufferinirs 
of his fellow soldiers. 

But his tastes were not for the legal profession. Country 
life had an irresistible charm — the waving fields of corn were a 
delight to him — the winds that brought the aroma of the pine, 
and the scent of the new-mown hay were music in his ears ; 
he delighted in the sweet breath of the kiue and loved the 
horse. The one he drove was characteristic of him — a power- 
ful creature that seemed proud of his burden. 

Gen. Lincoln's life was cast in stirring times. Yes, "in 
times that tried men's souls," and he was more than equal to 
the trial. He belonged to neither of the extreme parties, but 
came early under the influence of him who is rightly called 



21 

"the expounder of the constitution," and believed with Daniel 
Webster in that best of all principles for an American citizen, 
" Liberty and Union now and forever, one and inseparable," 
and did all in his power to make that sentiment honorable 
throughout the world. 

Gen. Lincoln knew that slavery was a curse, and when a 
slave-holder's rebellion came, he went early to the war, served 
with fidelity to his country and honor to himself. 

Gen. Lincoln wielded a graceful pen. The story he wrote 
of his regiment, with the appendix giving an account of his 
own capture and escape, illustrates still another side of his 
character which ought not to be omitted. It is one of the most 
graceful of regimental histories, and owes its charm to a de- 
lightful humor. Nothing grave or gay that had a ludicrous 
side escaped his notice ; an honest, healthy humor crops out 
everywhere. In camp, in hardship, in privation, yes, in those 
long days and anxious nights in the lonely mountains of Vir- 
ginia when fleeing for dear life, he could always find a chance 
to cheer the despondency of comrades with an honest laugh. 

This brave old man kept this wonderful humor to the end. 
Did I call him old? Could you have seen him with his grand- 
children about him you would never have thought of him as 
old. But I must not venture here, the home is sacred. 

The taps have sounded, the lights are out, and the brave 
soul is once more victorious. 



Chaplain Ball's Address. 

Rev. Mr. Stebbins was heard with the closest attention and 
was followed by Rev. George S. Ball of Upton, chaplain of the 
21st Regiment. He said : 

Dear Friends: Another veteran has been mustered out 
from the Grand Army, to which can come no recruits. A long 
and useful life has ceased on earth. Dust claims its own, and 
dust returns to dust, ashes to ashes ; but there are trophies 
even death cannot win. The memory of the just is blessed. 
Brave deeds, noble principles, win our admiration and love, 



22 

and these go not down to the grave. These we still hold as a 
precious legacy. Amid this common sorrow over the departure 
of our friend, a common loss, we are drawn together to sit in 
sympathy with the bereaved, and yet to rejoice so much is still 
left to comfort and bless us. We rejoice in the great reality 
of that noble life, with its fine powers of body and mind, so 
trained in youth, that from early manhood he was able to take 
his place in society, and to discharge the various duties of a 
changing station among his fellowmen, as to win a distinguished 
name as a citizen, a brave, heroic soldier, a noble and worthy 
officer — both in civil and military life, and came down to the 
grave "in full age like as a shock of corn cometh in his sea- 
son." Moved by a common impulse, his fellow citizens gather 
in civic and military array to do honor to a life thus blessed 
and blessing his day and generation. His departure will leave a 
large place among his fellow-townsmen, in the city and county, 
vacant. His erect and stalwart figure will be greatly missed from 
those places and those organizations he was wont to frequent, 
but how much more in that inner circle of loved ones within 
the quiet domestic retreat he loved so well as age approached. 
I am warned that I must be very brief. His own life shows us 
that no man iiveth to himself, as no man dieth to himself. His 
name is an honored one throughout the history of the nation. 
He was a ripe fruit growing on this tree of life, whose roots 
seem nourished in the spirit and patriotism of the Fathers. 
The blood descending from father to son went thrillino; throuojh 
his veins, a patriot fire that could only be appeased in sacrifices 
for and in the prosperity of the nation. In this experiment of 
a government, by and for and through the people, he forced 
its own practical problems on every thoughtful mind in a 
community where all are bound up in a common weal. In the 
monarchies of the old world there were standing armies to 
sustain- them in ruling the people well or ill. With our own, 
there was the paraphernalia of government, and at its head an 
executive officer, but unless there was some force he could call 
to his aid in the emergencies of the government, it was weak 
indeed against any outbreak of violence from the people, like 



23 

that of a mob in our cities. Our friend, now silent, met this 
problem by at once allying himself with that force at first en- 
rolled from the male youth of the land under a certain age, and 
called the militia. 

This proved to be too crude an organization, and the volun- 
teer militia was called into existence. To-day these organiza- 
tions, the pride of your city, the needed executive aid in those 
emergencies referred to, feel the impulse he imparted to them 
by his own ardor and enthusiasm, his foreseeing brain, and or- 
ganizing and commanding intellect. This force has always 
needed men with the courage of their conviction and the good 
of the Commonwealth at heart. There were days which seemed 
not to need them, and he retired from its active service. 

Suddenly there came a great emergency — feared by the far- 
seeing, but hardly believed by the masses of the people possi- 
ble. Armed rebellion appeared in the land. The very life of 
government and its institutions were threatened. Then came 
the call of the Chief Executive of the land for help. Then, 
when the ardor of his youth had been sobered into a ripe, clear 
judgment, but when his age might have excused him from mili- 
tary duty, out of an undiminished patriotism, he answered the 
call by a readiness to leave his home and the comforts of his 
home life and cast his lot with the 34th Regiment, then form- 
ing here. He went to the front as lieutenant-colonel of it, 
Judge Wells being its chief officer. His clear mind saw at 
once what our forces needed to cope with a powerful enemy, 
adroit, well disciplined, able, brave, determined and well led. 
He at once sought to meet all these conditions by a force 
equally as well disciplined. Then his men, entirely unused to 
such a life, felt it was far too severe, until the pressure of bat- 
tle showed its value and his own willingness to share with them 
the discomforts of camp and field, and his valiant example at 
their head inspired a respect and love they never forgot. Even 
after more than a quarter of a century had elapsed, the loved 
commander, unable to meet them of late at their reunions, 
dra2:s:ed himself to a review of his old regiment at their late 
reunion in this city, and his presence called forth an expression 



24 

of love and veneration, such only as old soldiers can give. 
Proficient in drill, their thorough discipline under their officers 
thus led and inspired, won for the regiment encomiums of 
praise from every general officer under which they served. He 
held officers and men to the same high standard of duty until, 
as another has said, they could be relied on as the "first to 
advance " at the command of superiors and the last to retreat. 
This power of inspiration, by which a brave, discreet leader 
can inspire men so as to completely win their confidence and 
find them ready to follow where he leads, comes not out of 
shams. It is a soul that can thus dominate and quicken men 
into a common life and purpose. It is not mere enthusiasm — 
a temperament, an artful study — but real, genuine character 
and greatness of soul. It is born of thought — trained by ex- 
ample. It holds sympathy and care for others, indeed almost 
every virtue, at times, in its grasp. And thus built up a power 
to plan and execute, at once men came to obey its motion and 
be thrilled by its spirit. 

Such was our friend and comrade at the head of the regi- 
ment. He scorned to do, when away from the restraint of 
home and society, what he would blush to own before his own 
loved. 

I must abruptly close by saying that his deeds in the hour of 
the country's peril have gone into history. He has borne the 
evidence of his own bravery before you these many years, as 
he has followed the arts of peace, disabled, and yet unmurmur- 
ingly bearing his burden. How readily to those who sought 
his advice, he has opened the rich stores of his large experience 
and well trained mind. Let me add what another has said, but 
which expresses what I would add. 

How shall we o'er brave ones sleeping, 

Write deserving eulogies ? 
They with sword our honor keeping, — 

Carving out our destinies. 
Sculptured marble's lips are chilling, 

Sinking daily into earth ; 
And our tongues of flesh so willing, 

Fail to utter praise to worth. 



25 

As man thinketh, so his duty, 

Be it pen or sword to wield ; 
They have each a native beauty, — 

In their season, honors yield. 
Smoke and flame are clouds of glory 

Fiery chariots heavenward bound, 
Short and sad may be the story, 

But did trump untimely sound ? 

Rest, ye brave, your march is ended, 

Save the eternal march, where tears 
And thy blood, with victories blended. 

Fall not, in those endless years. 
Now DO more in conflict meeting, — 

Shalt thou hear the clarion sound, 
Thou hast found, whate'er the seeking,— 

Honor, glory, and a crown. 

Farewell. 

The services closed with prayer and benediction by Rev. Mr. 
Stebbins and with singing by the quartette, " Come Unto Me." 

The casket was then removed to the vestibule of the church, 
where it lay in state, Sergeant Mooney and Sergeant Power 
acting as guard of honor at the head and foot. The face of the 
dead was calm and peaceful, and nearly every one availed 
themselves of this last privilege of looking at the dead general's 
features. The services were ended at 1 :30, and during the 
hour the Light Infantry remained on guard before the church. 

The church was filled during the ceremony, and besides the 
various organizations already mentioned as in attendance, a 
large proportion of the city's leading citizens were present. 
Mayor Winslow and many members of the city government 
attended ; as did also Senator Hoar and Congressman Walker. 

From the Church to the Grave. 
The procession from the church to the grave was effected 
under Gen. Pickett and Major Raymond, with the Worcester 
Brass Band and Light Infantry, Lieut. Fairbanks commanding ; 
the Worcester Light Infantry Veteran Association, Col. J. M. 
Drennan ; detail of honorary members of the Worcester Couti- 



26 

nmttls, Cap4. E. A. Wood ; 34th Re^ment Association, Col. 
Goodridi : bearers : hearse, with guard of honor from the 34th 
Besiment : carri^es containing moameis. 

The Tarioas ofvanizadons look up their positions under the 
noffled drom beat. When the procession moved the band 
plared the diige ** Oar Illustrious Dead." The Grand Army 
detail did not march to the grave. As the procession passed 
it was witnessed by large numbers of people who lined the 
sidew^k. while many followed on to the grave. 

At the Grave. 

WTien Rural Cemetery was readied the procession moved to 
the family lot. where was an improvised platform for the mourn- 
ers. Rev. Cslvin Stebbins offered prayer. Taps were sounded 
by Mr. X. E. McCauley. of the Worcester Brass Band, over the 
open grave. 

The I^fat Infantry fired three volleys and the procession 
thai moved back to martial music, proceeding to Horticultural 
Hall, where a loncfa had thoi^tfully been provided for the 
veterans of the 34th. for the Light Iniantry Veteran Associa- 
tioD, and f<»- die Lisht In&ntry. 



WoECESXEE. Tuesday, Nov. 12, 1SS9. 
The nmeral of Gen. William S. Lincoln, late Colonel of the 
34th Regiment, was largely attended here this afternoon, and 
the exercises at the Church of die Unity were very impressive. 
Affc^ a ample serrioe at the house the remains were taken to 
tlie church, wh^e delegations of the Worcester Light Infantry 
Yctemi Asociation, Worcester Continentals, the Grand Army, 
and some seventy members of the 34th Raiment Association 
undo' eommand of Capt. Goodrich, of Fitchbuig, had already 
^eembled. The serriee eoDsisted of singing by a male quar- 
tette of ** Bock of Ages,"" reading of the Scriptnres, remarks by 
Rev. CaMn Stebbina, paator of the church, and Rev. George 



It 



S. Ball, of Upton, and the singing of " So Night IbOTe." 
The procession to the _ ^ led by the Worcester Brass 

Band, followed bv the -ler Light Inlantrj, the Woree^ 

ter Lisht Infentrj- Veteran Associatioa and the a4lh Begnnent 
Association, then the hearse and rehtires in carriages. Tlic 
exercises at the grave consisted of a dirge by the band, a 
prayer, three volleys by the Light Infimtiy. and -^ Light* out " 
by the bugler. 

The floral tributes were many, beaotifdl and appropriate, and 
consisted in part of a pillow of Ei^lish ivy leaves, with a heart 
of white chryamthemams, and a shoulder-strap with a star; 
there were also two white hearts, the badge of the 24th army 
corps, to which the regiment was attached dacii^ the latter 
part of its service,— one with the regimental number in red 
chrysanthemums in the center, from Ae Worcester memb^s 
of the association, and the other in pure white from the Sprii^ 
field members. Upon the casket were placed Ae generaTs 
iword and belt and military hat. The bearers were J. A. 
Faverweather. of Westborty , W. W. Bice, WOliam T. Merri- 
lieij. Dr. T. H. Gage. Col. Levi Barker, Quarterma^^-- C H. 
Rowland, Capt. WelU Willard and Lieut. Henrv r 
last three representing the D4th Begiment. Among ihuse pr^ 
ent were Capt. D. Holden, Lieut. F. A. Judd^ J- - Or. 
Allbe. John H. Savage and Henry H. Clark, of ^_ - -■ 
Charles A. Porter, ot^ Windsor Locks, Ct., Samuel C. - 
of West Springfield. E. B. Smith, of Westfield, and Joee— > - 
Clark, of South Hadley. 

Gen. Lincoln had held the office of President of the Mth 
Be^mnent Association ever since it was organized in IS^T. He 
several times declined the honor, but the - boy? " would never 
consent to his retirement, and aMioi^ he had not be«i able 
to anend the reunions of late years, he always sent some mes- 
sage to Aow that his comrades held a warm place in his hem. 



28 
RESOLUTIONS OF RESPECT. 



Action of the 34th Massachusetts Infantry. 

Whereas, Death has once more entered our ranks, and this time has taken 
the foremost of us all, while bowing to the Divine will we cannot but ex- 
press our deep and heartfelt sorrow at our gi-eat loss. Outside of his own 
Immediate relations we feel that none miss him more. Threefore, 

Resolved, That in the death of Gen. Wm. S. Lincoln, our former Colonel, 
and President of our Association since its organization, we lose a brave sol- 
dier, a gallant and successful commander, a wise counsellor, and faithful 
friend; whose only aim during our service was, that we should bring credit 
to ourselves as a regiment, and whose endeavors were always directed to 
our comfort and happiness. And while he lacked none of the qualities which 
were calculated to ensure perfect discipline in the field, he also recognized 
us as comrades in arms, looked upon each one of us as a friend whose neces- 
sities he was always ready to relieve — and whose appeal to him for advice 
and sympathy met with hearty response. 

Besolved, That to soldiers, no loss is heavier than the death of a superior 
officer — who has commanded them, and had their respect and love. And 
every member of the 34th highly respected and greatly loved Gen. Lincoln — 
almost whose last words were remindres to those about him of his undying 
love for his old regiment, and the recollection of those stirring events in 
its history he could not forget even in his closing hours. 

Besolved, That these resolutions be entered upon the records of this Asso- 
ciation, and that a copy of them be sent, by the secretary, to the family of 
Gen. Lincoln. 

Worcester, Mass., Nov. 12th, 1889. 

Action of the Worcester Light Infantry Veteran 
Association. 

At a meeting held Nov. 11th, the following resolutions upon 
the death of the late President of this Association, General 
William S. Lincoln, were introduced and adopted : 

Again our ranks have been invaded by the " Last Enemy," death, and we 
are detailed to pay our tribute of respect to the memory of our revered Pres- 
ident, General William Sever Lincoln. 

Outside the family circle none can feel his loss in a greater degree than 
that body of men with whom he has been so long identified— the Worcester 
Light Infantry Veteran Association — of which he was the head, and leading 
spirit. Never, while health and strength permitted, was he absent from his 
post of duty. For the past two years he has been too feeble to be present at 
our anniversary exercises, but he always sent us kindly greetings and was 
•' with us, if not of us." To-day all that is left us is his inanimate body and 
his memory ; therefore 



29 

Besolved, That we, his surviving comrades, while submitting to the law of 
the inevitable, from which there can be no reprieve, realize that in his death 
we have lost a loved commander, a wise counsellor, a faithful friend ; one 
who gave of his substance as freely as of his counsel when needed. We shall 
cherish his memory as a brave soldier and an honest man. 

Besolved, That we attend his funeral in a body, wear the usual badge of 
mourning, and that a copy of these resolutions be sent to the family of the 
deceased, to the daily press, and also be inscribed on the records of the 
Association. 

Respectfully submitted. 

F. G. STILES, 

Committee for the Association. 



Action of the Worckstku Agiucultuual Society. 

At 10 : 15 President J. Lewis Ellsworth called to order the 
annual meeting of the Agricultural Society Trustees in the li- 
brary of Horticultural Hall, and Secretary F. H. Chamberlain 
read the call. 

B. W. Potter, Esq., for the committee previously appointed, 
read resolutions upon the death of Gen. William S. Lincoln, 
and moved their adoption. 

In seconding the motion, Mr. H. H. Chamberlin said: " I 
suppose I knew Gen. Lincoln longer than any one here, and 
perhaps longer than any living member. I knew him and his 
brother Waldo 68 years ago, at the old Centre school house, 
and they were among the ])rightest and merriest of the school. 
A score of us, I remember, were attending writing school to- 
gether, when a life and drum were heard in the street and Wil- 
liam Lincoln's attention was so distracted that the teacher asked 
him which he would rather do, 'tend to his lessons or follow 
the soldiers?' 'I would rather follow them,' he replied, and 
school was dismissed in consequence." Mr. Chamberlin then 
paid an eloquent tribute to Waldo and William Lincoln in man- 
hood, and referred to the bullet which the latter carried in his 
shoulder for many years, a witness to his gallantry on the bat- 
tlefield. 

Mr. Stephen Salisbury also spoke feelingly regarding Gen. 
Lincoln and the interest which he always took in the society. 



30 

concluding with the suggestion, which was followed, to rise in 
voting on the resolutions. 

liesolved, That in the death of Gen. William S. Lincoln, this society has 
lost one of its most useful and intelligent members and a faithful and efficient 
officer, and we desire to express and to record our sense of bereavement and 
our high appreciation of distinguishing traits of his character. 

He had a loyal and steadfast character, which was able to stand prosperity 
and which no adversity could shake. He never deserted a friend because of 
his misfortune, nor any party or society to which he belonged because of its 
defeat or financial embarrassment, nor his country in the darkest hour of its 
history. The friends of his youth were the friends of his old age. His faith- 
fulness to this society for half a century was typical of his faithfulness to his 
family, his friends, and to every organization of which he was a member. 
His worthy but unassuming performance of the duties of good citizenship in 
peace, and his brave services as a fighting soldier in the War of the Rebel- 
lion, entitle him to our admiration and to the gratitude of his country. 

He lived among self-seekers in business and oflBce and in an age of high 
pressure in every department of human endeavor, yet he never joined in the 
scramble for office or wealth, but led a quiet home life amid rural scenes on 
a farm which he dearly loved. He even took pains to avoid notoriety and to 
keep out of the public view. He dwelt a little oack from the public highway 
and surrounded his house with beautiful and stately trees, which not only 
sheltered his home from the storms of the physical elements, but also guarded 
and protected him from many human passions and storms. He was not 
wholly indiflferent to the praise or the blame of the world, yet he could treat 
either with absolute contempt when it conflicted with his sense of duty or his 
love of truth. Although he had a very reserved and retiring disposition, yet 
he never failed on fit occasions to speak the sentiments of his heart, as well 
as the thoughts of his mind. 

A man of scholarly instincts and association, and a close observer of na- 
ture and human action, he had access to many fields of thought and enter- 
tainment, and thereby derived great enjoyment from life, although for many 
years he was a great sufferer. He possessed such dignity and independence 
of character, and such modesty and simplicity of manner that every one in 
his presence not only felt the charm of his personality, but instinctively be- 
lieved in the genuineness of his honesty and manhood. He was a soldier 
without dishonor, a farmer without guile, and a man without veneering, and 
we mourn his loss, but we are thankful for his example, and we hope that it 
will not be without influence in shaping the character of the young who knew 
him, and in urging us to higher aspirations in the direction of good citizen- 
ship and ideal living. 

(Signed) BURTON W. POTTER, 

H. H. CHAMBERLIN, 
WM. T. MERRIFIELD. 



33 



IMPRISONMENT AND ESCAPE. 



The close of the 15th of May, 1S64, left me, with many of my companions in 
arms, wounded and in the hands of the enemy. We had marched, the day 
before, a distance of twenty-one miles in seven hours, with but one halt, and 
that of only ten minutes. Now the sun had sent down his fiercest rays, now 
the clouds had poured their contents, in torrents, upon our devoted heads. 
Tired, wet through, and hungry, — for we had not a morsel to eat with us, — 
in the thick darkness of the overhanging woods, we laid down in line of 
battle upon our arms. Twice the volleys of musketry from opposing parties 
on our left had caused us to spring up in line; and again, we had been roused, 
before dawn, by our own officers, and held in readiness for any movement 
which might be made. Later on in the morning, we had passed hours in 
marching and countermarching for position, and still later had met the attack 
of the enemy, and after a sharp and severe fight, had been badly beaten. As 
the day closed, some sixty of us found ourselves stretched in and around 
an old barn, near the battlefield, closely guarded by Rebel soldiers. During 
the early hours of the evening, and well into the night, our party received 
accessions from such wounded Union soldiers as were able to make 
their way unaided ; or too severely wounded to walk, were brought in by 
the enemy. Occasionally, by the light of a lantern, some Rebel officer 
would examine us. "Are there any Confederate wounded here?" was 
asked by Major Meem, Medical Director on the staff of Gen. Breckenbridge, 
as he stood at the head of a goodly sized party of Rebel surgeons. No 
answer was returned by any of us, as the question was addressed to no one 
in particular. " I say, you d — d Yankee sons of b s, are there any Con- 
federate wounded here ? " "No, sir!" was the reply. "Then this is no 
place for us, gentlemen ! " said the Major ; and he turned away. Among 
the wounded was Capt. Graham of the 54th Pennsylvania. He had been 
shot directly through the right lung, and each breath he drew sent the air 
w/iistlifig through the wound, disturbing the dying, who laid near. " I wish, 
Major," said I to Meem, " you would give a look to this officer, before you 
go." "We've got enough to do to attend to the confederate wounded," 
said he; but spite of the remark turned to comply with the request. As he 
drew the shirt from the wound in the Captain's breast, he broke out with 

"All he wants is a d d good horn of whiskey" and walked off. All his 

companions followed, save one (I wish I knew and could give his name), 
who lingering behind, closed the wound with a piece of plaster, and gave 
hi m to drink from a jug in the hands of an Orderly. 



34 

With the morning light we were able to recognize, and enquire as to each 
other's condition. Another night passed, with the addition of a few more 
to our number, among whom was Capt. Fox of ours, from whom we learned 
of the death of Capt. Bacon, of our color company. 

Late in the afternoon of this day (Tuesday), with an armed Rebel on each 
side of us, Capt. Fox and myself made a slow march into town, and to the 
office of the Provost Marshal. Here our names and ranks were registered, 
and we were directed to report ourselves at the hospital. At this place our 
wounds were examined and partially dressed ; a thick slice of bread (the 
only food which either of us had had since Sunday morning) was given to 
each, and we were told that we might " look out for ourselves " till we were 
wanted. We procured lodgings at the Village hotel, where we staid till 
Thursday, when we were informed that we were wanted again at the hos- 
pital. Reporting, we found drawn up before the door of the building a 
long wagon, without cover, without springs, with no seat, and not even 
straw upon w hich to sit or lie, into which we were directed to get, as we 
were to be sent, in this way, to Harrisonburg, some twenty miles away. 
We were now joined by Lieut. Ammidon, of ours, who iiad been captured, 
but fortunately not wounded. Our journey was a sad and tiresome one. 
But it had an end; and late in the afternoon, when our teams stopped in the 
middle of the main street of Harrisonburg, opposite the Court House, we 
stepped down and out at the invitation of our guard. It was a curious co- 
incidence, that here, as on the battlefield, the first question asked me by the 
guard was the whispered otte, "Are you a Mason ? " In the light of subse- 
quent experience, I can't help thinking that I should have fared better, 
while a prisoner, if I could have answered this question in the affirmative. 
Here we took a sad farewell of Ammidon, who was at once hurried on 
further South to Andersonville and his death. We were now escorted to 
the hospital which was established in the buildings of the Academy, at the 
outskirts of the town, and reporting to the Surgeon, were by him ordered 
to report to the officer in charge of prisoners at the Court House. Entering, 
we were warmly greeted by Lieut. Walker and some forty or fifty of our 
own wounded men who had preceded us. We were assigned to the upper 
story of the building. There was the bare floor to sleep on ; no straw was 
furnished us. Our blankets, tin cups, canteens, indeed everything of the 
kind had previously been taken from us. Three times a day, coffee, bread 
and sheep meat, as the rebel soldiers called it, cut in cubes about two by 
two, were brought us. It so happened that my place on the floor, was next 
the door, as the room was entered. The coffee was brought in a large 
water pail, a small tin cup floating in it, from which we were to drink. As 
the bearer entered, he turned to me. FilHng the cup I put it to my lips, to 
take it away again with my thirst unquenched. My lips were blistered by 
the boiling liquid. And when, after going the rounds of the room, the 
soldier was at the door, on his way out, I reached again for the cup, I was 
met with the />/^rt.ya«/ remark, "Let that alone, you've had your chance 
before." And so it happ ette d aXways. We had many visitors, most of them 
apparently coming to see how we looked, as they exchanged no words with 



35 

us. Some came, however, from interest in the cause for which we suffered; 
or drawn by sympathy for us, on account of our wounds. Among the latter 
was a Mrs. Lewis, wife of a prominent merchant in the place, whose kind- 
ness of heart overbalanced the contempt in which she held the " myrmidons 
of the Tyrant Lincoln," and who furnished to many of us supplies from her 
own table as long as we remained in the Court House. Among the former 
was Col. Asa S. Gray, and his daughter, Miss Orra Gray, staunch lovers of 
the Union, both of them; ministering angels in our hours of despondency, 
of want, of suffering, and of death ! To their unwearied attention, and un- 
stinted supply of whatever they could procure which in any way would 
contribute to our welfare, all of us were indebted for comfort, and some of 
us for restored health and life. Dr. George H. Gilmer, a physician of the 
town, not only visited us, but attended to our wounds, till the arrival of Dr. 
Allen, assistant Surgeon on the Staff of the 34th Regiment; and in other 
ways did much to relieve us. Capt. McNiel, too, old Guerilla that he was, 
called often, and showed us much kindness, after his fashion. " Have you 
written home. Colonel ? " asked he one day. " Yes, Captain ! " " How did 
you send your letter ? " "By way of Richmond and flag of truce boat." 
" Pshaw ! " said he, "your folks will never hear from you by that route ! 
Here," said he, ' here is some paper, I see you've got pen and ink ; write 
a letter if you want to;— pay for a Confederate Post Office stamp,— I must 
make you contribute that much to our cause,— give me your word that you 
won't write anything you ought not to— seal it up and give it to me— and 
I'll put it into one oi your post offices for you, though, mind, I don't prom- 
ise that I won't rob it first." He was as good as his word; and, of all the 
letters written home by me while a prisoner, all of which were forwarded 
via Richmond and flag of truce boat, this one was the only one which 
reached its destination. Major Meem, too, called occasionally. Once, be- 
fore our surgeon came up, as he entered the room, I asked him if he would 
look at a little fellow of ours, whose wrist was terribly shattered by a Minie 
ball. " I suppose you want I should look at you, too ! Why the devil 
didn't you leave one of your own surgeons to take care of you? " said he : 
but the little fellow had already taken off his handkerchief, and held out 
his wrist, swollen, mangled, And oi a. dark, deep red color. "Erysipelas 
there. Major, isn't there ? " ' 'Yes." " His arm will have to be amputated, 
won't it?" "Yes." " Won't you operate?" " We can't be troubled with 
your men. Colonel ! we've got our hands full with our own," said the Major, 
as he turned and walked away. So life went on with us ; till, on the after- 
noon of the 25th, te7i days after the battle, we were gladdened by the arrival 
of Dr. Allen, one of our own surgeons, who had come up to take care of our 
wounds. Finding that we were packed too closely, he at once applied him- 
self to securing other and more airy, and comfortable quarters ; and having 
effected our removal, set about examining our wounds. The little fellow, 
whose wrist was so badly shattered, and whose arm Major Meem had at a 
later day amputated, was among the first to receive attention. Upon re- 
moving the bandage from the stump, the bonewas found to project three and 
one-half inches beyond the ''flap : " this, by actual measurement. Was this 



36 

accidental ? or was it in furtherance of the interest, as explained below, in 
the case of Ryan, whose left knee joint was shattered badly, and who now 
was low and sinking. " This man," said Dr. Allen to Maj. Meem, " ought 
to have had his leg amputated immediately after being wounded." " Yes ! " 
said the Major, " I thought so." "You saw him, then?" "Oh, yes!" 
"Well why didn't you operate?" "Oh, Doctor!" was the reply, '* you 
know iV sfor our interest to kill all your men we can " — and the conversation 
ended. 

After Dr. Allen's arrival, and before he had removed us to our new 
quarters, and while he was temporarily absent from the Court House, an 
ambulance was driven up, and a guard, getting out, announced that "Col. 
Lincoln, Capt. Fox, Capt. Graham, and Lieut. Walker would take seats in 
it," as they were about to be started off South. To hear was to obej'. In 
the effort to comply with the order, Lieut. Walker fainted, before he had 
reached the ground floor ; Col. Lincoln managed to get down, and part 
way to the ambulance ; while the two captains succeeded in reaching and 
taking their seats in the vehicle. At this stage in the movement. Dr. Allen 
made his appearance. In much excitement, he remonstrated at the cruelty 
of the order ; and obtained a promise of delay, till he could find the proper 
authorities, and remonstrate against its execution. He might as well have 
whistled against the wind, for all the effect he produced. The order had 
been issued, and would not be countermanded. Discouraged, he was re- 
turning, when he accidentally met Major Hunter Johnson, Acting Post 
Quartermaster, who hearing his representation that the removal of Col. 
Lincoln and Lieut. Walker would greatly endanger their lives, took the 
responsibility of countermanding the order, so far as those officers were 
concerned. He could not save the two Captains, however, and they were 
driven away. The days dragged their slow length along. Nothing but an 
occasional death varied the monotony of our life ; till one morning we 
were visited by a rebel officer, who asked us for owe parole. We demurred, 
till, upon his solemn assurance there was no Union force nearer than Cedar 
Creek, and at present, not the most remote possibility of our being recap, 
tured, we yielded, and gave the required pledge. The next day, however. 
Hunter, with his army, marched into town ! Before marching away, he 
visited the hospital — cheered us by his promise, that, upon reaching Stanton, 
he would send down a train with ambulances enough to take us all to Mar- 
tinsburg ; and left with us liberal supplies of flour, coffee, tea, sugar, &c., 
morphine, quinine, chloroform, stimulants and other medicines, and banda- 
ges sufficient for our wants. He left a large supply of all these articles for 
the rebel wounded, of whom there were more than two hundred in town. 
He left also -clothing, stockings, uniforms and boots for all our men. He 
had hardly gone, before the hospital was entered by a party of soldiers, 
headed by a man in rebel uniform, who gave his name as Capt. Jourdan of 
Rosser's command, and who robbed it of a// the liquors, a// the morphine, 
quinine, and chloroform we had; all the coffee, sugar, and tea they could 
carry off, each man taking one and some two suits of uniforms, and one or 
more pair of boots. Days passed ; and as with their passage, without the 



37 

appearance of the train promised by Hunter, hope of speedy liberation fled, 
some of our men lost courage, drooped and died ! 

We were denied the privilege of burying our dead in the village cemetery; 
and it was only by the persevering energy of iMiss Gray, that permission 
was given us to deposit their remains in the long disused graveyard belong- 
ing to the Methodist society of the town. 

In the absence of any better astringent, Allen sent out the nurses to cut 
down the only wild cherry tree we knew of ; and to dig up, and bring in the 
roots of blackberry bushes, of which to make tea. 

The Rebel authorities, who had run off at Hunter's approach, now re- 
turned, and resumed control. To our surprise, and indignation, we found 
that a guard was again stationed over us. We demanded its removal. 
Maj. Johnson replied that the question of the validity of our parole had been 
referrred to Richmond for determination. He removed the guard, till he 
should be informed of the decision. Meanwhile, Early came down the 
valley with his army ; and the guard was replaced over us. 

In consequence, a note was written and sent to Maj. Johnson, Acting Post 
Commandant, setting forth that our paroles were valid or of no binding 
force ; that if valid, there was neither propriety or right in keeping us under 
guard ; that if they were deemed invalid, we had no cause of complaint : 
but, that unless the guard was withdrawn, we should consider ourselves 
discharged from the obligations which the parole imposed. Although no 
reply was made to our note, the guard was continued over the hospital, and 
we left to draw our own inferences from such continuance. 

During this period, occasionally one or more of our wounded, now con- 
valescent, made their escape from the hospital in the village. No attempt 
at escape was made at our own, however^ Maj. Meem, at this time, re- 
appeared in the village. With his return, an effort was made to send away 
such of us as were well enough to bear the journey south. The means of 
transportation were limited, however. If the regular stage coach, from 
Winchester and below, came up empty, they would load in fourteen of us ; 
if it was filled with passengers, our party would have to wait a more con- 
venient season for their journey. Up to this time it had been left to Dr. 
Allen to determine ivho must go ; he being directed only as to the number 
to be sent. But now Allen announced that he had orders to send off the 
next day, fourteen of us ; "and. Colonel," said he, ^' you are named as one 
to be ready. I told Major Meem," said Allen, " that you were in no condi- 
tion to travel yet, and he is coming up to see you, and judge for himself" 
And so we were prepared when he made his appearance that morning. 
" Pshaw ! " said he, as he replaced my shirt, after making his examination, 
" Why /« //^// don't you get well, Colonel! I reckon you don't try very 
hard, do you ? But you'll have to go ! Don't you think now, you could 
take the journey if it was to your home? " "I'd try to, Major," was my 
reply. "Well, this is to Richmond ! " " By the way of Lynchburg? as 
Capt. Fox went," asked T. "How did you know anything about that?" 
" Oh ! I didn't dream it." "Well, get well ! " said he, " we'll let you off this 
time, but we can't keep you here forever, you know." " I don't want to 



38 

stay that long," I replied, and the subject was dropped. "By the way, 
Allen," he rejoined, "did you get your whiskey, to-day ? " This, in allusion 
to the fact, that since Rosser's captain had robbed the hospital of every 
thing of the kind, he (Meem) had undertaken to supply us with what was 
needed, " I got what you sent me. Major!" said Allen, "but its queer 
whiskey ! Lincoln here, had rather take his quinine clear, than in that stuff." 
' Where is it ? get a tumbler, and let's try it," said the Major. He did so : 
not once only, but twice, and not by tasting merely, but by drinking, 
till he emptied one of the two bottles he had filled for our sick. 
He left us after a while, much to my relief, if to that of no one else. My 
respite was short however ; for not many days afterward, upon Allen's re- 
turn from the lower hospital, he again announced that he was ordered to 
get another party ready to be sent away, and that I was again included 
among those to go. As before, so now, Major Meem was to come up, in 
the evening, to examine my condition for himself. 

Allen, Lieut. Walker, and myself, were the only occupants of one of the 
rooms, and as the Doctor left to make up his list of those best able to bear 
the journey, I made known to Walker (who, poor fellow ! was on crutches 
and could not go) my determination of trying to escape that night. He 
tried to dissuade me, on the ground that, weak as I was from my wounds and 
long confinement, I could not possibly succeed. But I felt that if I could 
get beyond the guards, I could manage it some how. Of course, I placed 
my chief reliance upon the aid I confidently expected to receive from any 
negroes I should meet on my way ; and preferred the risk incurred in the 
attempt, to the entertainment which would be furnished me at any of the 
rebel prisons farther South. So I cast about for a companion, and calling 
Snow, of our G, to my side, made known my plans, and sent him out with 
some money, to hunt up the " Old Auntie " who had done our washing, and 
get from her some suits of clothes with which to disguise ourselves. He 
returned, having procured for himself, only, the suit required. While he 
was gone, I had enlisted another recruit, in the person of Doherty, a man 
of the 54th Pennsylvania. Snow was again despatched, with instructions to 
tell the old " mammy " what I intended to do ; and also that she must send 
me a suit of her " old man's " clothes ; no matter how ragged ; and get 
him to meet us that night, at a spot designated, to guide us on our way. I 
had enquired of our visitors, at different times, as carefully as possible, of 
the direction of the different roads in sight from the hospital ; the nature of 
the country, and the character and disposition of the people along each 
route ; and now pitched upon the road leading by Rawley Springs, through 
Pendleton county, to Beverly, within the Union lines, as the most safe to be 
taken. But we wanted a guide at any rate, till we were fairly in the mount- 
ains. Snow's second attempt resulted in his bringing in a complete suit of 
well worn Grey for Doherty : an old white hat, minus crown and part of its 
brim, for me ; and a promise from the old negress, that her husband should 
go to the rendezvous agreed upon, that night, and wait for us ; and should 
take with him a suit of old clothes for me to wear. 

So we waited with comparative composure for the appearance of Major 



39 

Meem. He came, at last ; bringing with him a Dr. King, also a rebel sur- 
geon. They examined me thoroughly, but gave no intimation of the opin- 
ion they reached. The Major discussed his whiskey as before ; and bctzveen 
drinks, indulged in reminiscences of his life, while studying his profession 
at the Northern colleges, and confessed to having had many a good time 
among the Yankees. "Do you know, Colonel, how much pleasure it 
would give me to dine with you at your own home ? " he asked. " How I 
should like, Major, to extend an invitation to you tiow^ if I could only fix 
upon 2i particular day,'" was my reply. " Well," said he laughing, " it does 
look as if there was a little difficulty about that, does n't it? " " By the 
way, Allen," said he, " Haven't you go\.di pair of boots for me? mine are 
almost gone !" "I'm afraid," said Allen, " I've none that will fit you. 

There are none left smaller than nines, and yoic wear" ''fives" said the 

Major; " but we can't be too nice about the fit ! " So Snow was directed to 
bring in a pair. Meem literally stepped into them, they were so large, but 
nevertheless was pleased ; so much so that he insisted that King should 
also have a pair, and Allen sent for another one, which gave equal satisfac- 
tion, though none the less a misfit. Still they kept their seats ! What else 
did they want ? I was becoming nervous : now wondering whether Snow 
had not been careless, and now whether the c/^ '■'■Auntie" had not been 
treacherous, when Meem got up, and taking me by the hand, and wishing 
me a pleasant journey, went away with his friend King and their new loves, 
the Boots. Allen now closed the hospital, and crawled between his blank- 
ets ; and, contrary to his usual custom, laid still, and almost instantly fell 
asleep. Nothing broke the quiet that settled down upon us, save an occa- 
sional snore from some heavy sleeper, or the measured tread of the senti- 
nels around the building in which we were confined. We had planned to 
attempt our escape at as early an hour as possible. To aid it, one of our 
fellows, good singer, and capital story teller that he was (he had lost a leg 
and could not travel), volunteered to go out by the front door, and enter- 
tain the guard, in the hope that the sentinels, stopping occasionally to listen 
would get irregular on their beats, and thus give us a chance to slip from 
the back of the building, between them. Another comrade, on his bunk at 
a back window, was to give a low whistle when the coast was clear. Close 
to the rear of the hospital was a small shed, which was to be the first step 
of our flight ; a little way beyond was a board fence, our second step; while 
beyond, and till we reached the cover of the cornfield, all was open to ob- 
servation. Well in among the growing corn was the white oak tree agreed 
upon as the place of rendezvous. Doherty was to try his luck first, I next, 
and Snow was to follow last. Warned by Alien's low and regular breath- 
ing that he was asleep, I got up carefully, and giving Walker's hand a hearty 
grasp as I passed him, left the room. My appearance was the signal for the 
others to set about their work. Almost instantly we heard the rich voice 
of our one-legged comrade, as he charmed our friends, the guards. With 
but little intervals the low whistle of our other friend was heard, and 
Doherty slipped out ! I soon followed, and with but little delay gained 
the rendezvous, where I found Doherty. Snow soon joined us. But there 



40 

was no guide ! What should we do ? Snow and Doherty in their suits of 
homespun gray were capitally disguised; but for myself, if once seen in our 
own blue, detection and capture was almost sure. Still, I was the most un- 
willing to remain where we were. With the directions which Dr. Gilmer 
(to whom late in the afternoon I had confided my intention of trying to es- 
cape) had given me, I felt confident of finding the house of a negro, in 
whom we could trust ; and, finding him, of obtaining somehow, whatever 
disguise was necessary for my wants. But Snow was so confident that our 
guide would soon make his appearance that he absolutely refused to move 
from the spot. So, with an injunction to him not to wait a great while, 
Doherty and I left him, and made our way up to a corner of the field, 
abutting upon a piece of wood-land, where we could better conceal our- 
selves. While waiting somewhat impatiently for Snow to join us, we were 
startled by a musket shot, from the direction of the hospital ; quickly fol- 
lowed by loud talking, and the sound of horses in quick gallop along the 
road near us. Had our escape been so soon discovered ? Why is not 
Snow alarmed ? and what keeps him from joining us ? were questions each 
asked of the other. Every minute of waiting seemed an age ; and after 
much urging, Doherty consented to go down, keeping covered by the fence, 
with a message to Snow to join us immediately. In his absence, I fancied 
the voices were getting nearer and nearer, and was much relieved by the 
hurried tread of Doherty, who came up wiih the story that beneath the tree 
where we had left Snow he had caught sight of from six- to eig'lii persons, 
who were talking loud and angrily together. I may as well say here, what 
I afterward learned from Snow (who, tired of waiting, attempted to find us, 
and failing in that, succeeded in making his way back into the hospital 
again, from which, at a later day, he succeeded in escaping) that the shot 
which so alarmed us was an accidental one, from a falling stack; that the 
loud talking we heard was in a detachment of Cavalry men on their way 
down the pike to join Early's army; and that at no time in the night, after 
we left, was there an} body but himself under the tree. But this we did not 
then know; and jumping to the conclusion that our escape had been discov- 
ered, and Snow already retaken, we also came to the conclusion that our 
only hope of final escape laid in immediate flight. So we struck across the 
field in a southerly direction, under cover of woods wherever practicable. 
Our plan was to reach the road which led, via Rawley Springs, to Beverley, 
in our lines; travelling by a line parallel to it, through the fields and woods, 
as far as possible. 

Dr. Gilmer, who alone of all my new made friends knew of my intention to 
escape, had given some general directions as to the route, and also, the 
names of one or two persons whom I could safely trust, provided (and there 
was the difficulty), I could succeed in reaching their houses. We continued 
our way, crossing one or two roads, which we left, because not answering 
the description of the one we were in search of. Morning came upon us, 
literally wanderers in a strange land. If we could only have found a " little 
cabin inhabited by a negro family, with a wheelwright's shop, by the banks 
of a little creek," we should have found safe hiding place, something to eat. 



41 

ax\6 faithful guide on our way ! ! As it was, however, we hunted for, and 
found some thick underbrush, under cover of which we laid down and 
slept. Voices, in loud conversation, woke us late in the morning ; but, 
satisfied that we were well screened, we took another nap ! By noon we 
were awake again. We now held a long consultation ; but as we did not 
know where we were ; as it was not safe to attempt to move while it was 
light ; and as we were both dry and hungry, it was thought best to get 
another nap, if possible. We did not wake again till near sundown ! To 
while away the time, Doherty cut and trimmed a good hickory stick for 
each of us ; while I laid still, husbanding what strength I had, for our 
coming night's march. My wound was very painful ; and though /suffered 
much from thirst, Doherty professed to want nothing but food. Each of us 
was supported by the hope that we should yet find the house which had 
been fixed upon, as our refuge, after our first night's travel (wherein dwelt 
our much needed guide across the mountains), and which we hoped Snow 
might have reached ; and when it was dusk, we left our cover, and with 
undiminished courage resumed our tramp, still keeping the direction of our 
previous night's route. We carefully felt among the stubble of a large 
wheat- field in our way, for any chance heads of grain with which to satisfy 
our hunger ; and we quarrelled with an old sow for the possession of a 
stagnant pool, in which she was peacefully reclining, that we might satisfy 
our thirst. Here we held council again. Looking south-west over the town, 
from our place of confinement in Harrisonburg, a solitary hill, sugar-loaf in 
shape, rose high above the surrounding country. From the information we 
had, we ought, upon looking to our rear to have seen this hill on our right, 
but we did see it on our left ; and we were forced to the conclusion, that, by 
some mistake, we had crossed the road which led to the Springs. It had 
been represented as widely laid out, thrown up in turnpike-sJiape, and pretty 
well travelled. So, taking another drink {it didn't taste so well this time), 
we turned our faces northward, and kept on till we came to a road, which, 
in the belief that it was the one we sought, we followed for a while under 
some of the pines by its side. This seemed to run out into a mere wood's 
path, when we left it, and keeping still more to the north, across the fields, 
soon came out into another road, along which we kept till morning light 
warned us to take to the mountains, and hide. Hunger and thirst, and 
anxiety as to our whereabouts prevented sleep ; and crawling beneath the 
shelter of some thick underbrush, we spent the day in watching the farm- 
houses which dotted the plain below, in hopes of catching sight of some 
''contraband." At times, we speculated as to what had become of Snow, 
and what effect our escape had had on the fate of our comrades left at Har- 
risonburg. The sight of Rebel Cavalrymen near, riding from house to 
house below us, and holding short colloquy with the inmates of each, did 
not add to our peace. Our day watch came to an end at last ; and at dusk, 
flanking the houses at our feet, we descended the mountain for the purpose 
of obtaining food, and, if possible, information as to our whereabouts. Our 
watch of the day had shown us that the house near by had no inmates, save 



42 

the aged and gray-headed couple, who had responded to the calls of the 
Rebel horsemen during the day. 

Of course, dressed as I was in my own proper uniform, save that a private's 
blouse had been substituted for the regulation coat ; with my arm confined, 
and useless, by reason of my wound, it was not prudent for me to show 
myself. So Doherty left me seated with my back to a stone wall, and went 
up to the house alone. He soon rejoined me, having in one hand a pitcher 
of milk, and in the other two slices of bread, which we attacked without 
ceremony. The old man had followed Doherty, unperceived ; and now, 
while we were eating, reached over the wall and placed his hands on my 
shoulder. "Who are you? Where do you come from? Where are you 
going? and what are you doing here, at this time of night," he asked. Too 
many questions to answer at once ; so he was told merely that we were 
Conscripts, on ourway to report at Harrisonburg, to the Rebel commandant. 
There had been a late conscription ; and all conscripts had been ordered to 
report the day a//^r we left. "You ought to have reported yesterday." 
" Yes ! but we lost our way in crossing the mountains !" "Where did you 
come from?" "Moorfield." " How did you pass the picket at Brock's 
Gapf^ "We wa n't challenged !" "That's strange !" There was a good 
deal of like questioning and answer ; the result of it being to give us the 
information that we were on the road to '^^ Brock's Gap," instead of 
" Rawley Springs," and that we were only ni7te miles from Harrisonburg. 
Having eaten our supper, we rose and followed the man as far as his house, 
on the zvay to Harrisonburg. Here we exchanged with him a pleasant good 
night, and continued our way in apparent unconcern. But, so soon as we 
were fairly screened from his observation, we retraced our steps. Having 
repassed his house, we sat down to discuss our situation. Here we were, 
on a road we knew to be a very dangerous one, for McNeil's company was 
at "Moorfield," and parties of his men were continually passing between 
that place and Harrisonburg. Besides, while prisoners, in conversation with 
our guards, as well as those well disposed toward us, we had learned that 
in many respects an unsafe road to take. Still I could not make up my 
mind to turn back in search of another route. My feet were already very 
sore and inflamed, and I dreaded any increase of travel. 

At length, with much difficulty, I persuaded Doherty it was best to keep 
on. It was nearly morning when we neared the entrance to the Gap. We 
were walking after the fashion of the country, Doherty leading a few paces, 
when, at a turn in the road, I caught sight of the light of a picket fire, 
which Doherty had not seemed to notice. My low whistle, or the snapping 
of a twig, upon which Doherty had incautiously stepped, attracted atten- 
tion ; and a sharp " who goes there ?" followed. We each threw ourselves 
upon the ground, close to the bushes which lined the road, and after a little 
delay, crawled through the brush to the river bank (the Shenandoah), 
plunged into the water, which we forded somehow ; and, climbing the 
mountain, hid in a thick clump of evergreens. Here we passed the next 
day undisturbed. Heavy clouds gathered in the afternoon sky, but we 
started at dusk, in spite of the rain which had begun to fall. At the foot of 



43 

the mountain, we found a creek running across our way. We forded it 
safely, carefully feeling the way with our canes, and sat down on its bank 
to empty the water from our boots, and wring it out of our stockings. We 
had not finished, when the tread of horses' feet, and rattling of sabres, 
warned us of near danger. How my heart beat, as the foremost rider 
pulled up his horse (a step farther and he would have been actually upon 
me) to settle with his companion the dispute between them, whether or 
not they were at the Ford. Fortunately for us they concluded that it was 
at a point lower down the creek, and reining round their horses, they rode 
away. Of course we moved as soon as they were fairly off ; and after a 
little waiting, everything being still, put on our boots, and walked away. 
But a new trouble met us soon after. We came to where the road forked. 
In the darkness of the night we could hardly see a hand before us ; so, kneel- 
ing, we tried, by careful feeling of the road, to ascertain which was the most 
travelled, meaning to take it. But we could not satisfy ourselves, and con- 
cluded to hide again and wait for the morning. So we climbed the mountain, 
and laid down to rest and sleep. It was late when we woke, cold and stiff, 
and of course wet through, for it was raining hard, as it had all the night 
long. All day we watched the roads in sight, hoping that some of McNeil's 
men would pass, and so we be able to select our route ; for we had now 
determined to make for " Romney " and "Moorfield," and our lines at 
"Cumberland." Late in the afternoon, it having cleared away, we de- 
scended the mountain part way, and hid in a thick clump of laurel bushes, 
almost directly over the road. After long waiting and watching, we caught 
sight of two Rebel soldiers, slowly riding toward Harrisonburg ; and as 
they passed, heard : "Well, they can't be on this road, for the Colonel was 
never out of the hospital till the night he got away ; and he could not have 
travelled so far;" and recognized in one of the party, a soldier who had 
been guard over us for weeks. 

We knew now that we had been pursued ; and that our pursuers, on this 
road, unable to hear an>-thing of us in advance, were returning, satisfied 
that we must have taken some other route. Of course we felt greatly 
relieved at what we had just seen and heard ; and waited, with a good deal 
of impatience, for the coming on of evening, that we might resume our 
journey. At near dusk we picked our way to the foot of the mountain, and 
soon after started. Our road wound up and round the side of the mountain; 
it was narrow, bordered on each side by tall trees growing thickly together, 
which made it pretty dark ; and we trudged along with a good degree of 
confidence, greatly relieved by the knowledge that we were no longer being 
pursued. Once or twice, we stopped to consult at a divergent path, but 
were not tempted to wander from our better travelled road. Hour» had 
passed, and we were still climbing ; the road had been gradually getting 
worse and worse ; we occasionally stumbling over projecting roots and 
stumps ; when, all at once, we stood on the summit of the mountain, face 
to face with the newly risen moon ! It should have been at our backs ! 
How had we gone astray ? and how far from our true route had we been 
led ? Alas ! there was no opportunity^ to enquire, if enquirj' would have 



44 

been safe ; and with feelings a good deal depressed, we turned to retrace 
our steps, carefully examining the way, as we walked on, to determine, if 
possible, at what point we had wandered. Morning broke upon us, while 
still upon our backward way ; and we went into the woods for concealment, 
a good deal dispirited. We were roused from sleep by the crowing of cocks, 
and the barking of dogs, in the door-yard of a house not far away, and 
which had been unnoticed before. The clear notes of a bugle, sounding 
the reveille, drew our attention to a party of Rebel horsemen in another 
direction, who were engaged grooming their " cattle." We were almost in 
"the open,'" so far as this party was concerned; and, digging our heels 
into the ground, slowly but carefully worked ourselves, upon our backs, 
under cover. We watched anxiously the departure of these soldiers ; and, 
relieved by their riding away, were amused later in the day, by observing 
the females and children of the family near us, as, with straight poles for flails, 
they kept hard at work pounding out their crop of wheat. Way off, in 
Another direction, by itself, and apparently in the middle of a large field 
of grain, was a small, one-story house, at which we determined we would 
apply for food, when night should come. 

We felt gloomy enough ! My own condition called for all the nerve I was 
possessed of. My wound, from want of attention, was extremely painful, 
and besides, my feet were so badly swollen, and blistered, that I could 
hardly walk. In addition, I was weak from want of food, and suffering for 
water. Doherty, not having been wounded, was in better condition ; still 
he suffered a good deal. Notwithstanding all this, we started as soon as it 
was dark ; and going up to the house, Doherty obtained a couple of slices 
of bread, well covered with apple butter, and, what he did not want so much, 
the company of the owner of the place, out to where I was seated. Of 
course it was natural that we should be questioned, and perhaps equally 
natural that we should not tell all the truth, or nothing but the truth. Again 
we passed ourselves off as Rebel soldiers, this time as returning from fur- 
lough ; and were not a little startled to find that we had been on the road to 
Franklin County. Professing to belong to Imboden's command, our friend 
kindly undertook to pilot us across the country, to a road which led to 
Winchester, where Imboden was. We followed him until we reached a 
road, which he assured us led directly to Winchester ; thanked him for his 
kindness, and paid him for his bread, and left him. Now here was a dilem- 
ma ! If we did not want to go to " Franklin," neither did we wish to go to 
Winchester, which we had good reason to believe must now be occupied 
by Early and his army. Still, in the uncertainty of being able to find the 
road from which we had strayed in some unaccountable manner, it seemed 
the best course to keep on. By keeping to the mountains, we believed we 
could avoid all the Rebel pickets ; and there would be but little more danger 
in taking this route, than the one by ' ' Romney . ' ' True, if retaken, we should 
fare better at the hands of McNeil than in the keeping of Mosby or Harry Gil- 
mor. Besides, the distance to Martinsburg was less than to any point in 
our lines by way of Romney. 
So we accepted our new situation with comparative cheerfulness. Once 



45 

in the course of the night, we were brought to a stand-still, by the apparent 
runnirtg out of the road, in the thick brush, at what appeared to be the bed 
of a mountain brook, now completely dried. On our hands and knees we 
felt (for in the darkness we could see nothing) for the foot marks of horses, 
or fresh horse dung, which would be a guide. But we failed to find either ; 
and after long hunting, came into a footpath, which gradually widened out 
and gave us a way of escape from the difficulty which threatened us. Warned 
by the coming daylight, we again hid on the mountain. After a sound sleep, 
we woke, and cautiously made our way through the woods to a point from 
which we could plainly see what was going on in a farm house beneath. 
We were interested in watching the Rebel soldiers, who occasionally 
stopped on their way to chat with the young girls of the family, and in 
endeavoring to hear what was said. We heard enough to satisfy us that 
there had been a late battle between the two armies in the valley ; but not 
enough to learn at what place it was fought, or which party were victors. 

Early in the afternoon, Doherty announced his determination of going to 
the house for food. Although we could plainly enough see that there were 
no males about the house, I tried to dissuade him from venturing — at any 
rate, while it was daylight ; but he declared he should die unless he had 
something to eat, and off he started. I was relieved at seeing him reach 
the house, make known his wants (as I well knew by seeing one of the girls 
go to the "spring house"), and leave with some bread in his hands. But I 
was equally disturbed when, as soon as he was fairly away, one of the girls 
sounded a conch, and I saw a man, who was cradling oats in a field not far 
off, start on a run for the house. Hurrying to meet Doherty, we climbed 
the mountain, flanked the house, and, keeping under cover of the woods, 
continued our flight, till warned by the setting of the sun of the danger ot 
again losing our way. 

Seating ourselves, each discussed his shigle slice of bread. Now, Doherty 
found leisure to tell the cause of his rapid retreat from the house. He had 
asked for a larger allowance of bread than was first given him ; and while 
incautiously asking his way, and the distance to Winchester, one of the girls 
accused him of being a runaway prisoner from Harrisonburg, and, in his 
confusion, he left without waiting for the additional supply he had asked 
for. But he learned that the road we had been travelling did not lead to 
Winchester. So we had lost our way again I Nothing daunted, however, 
we started as soon as it was dark. Morning saw us once more in hiding, 
with no house in sight. We slept pretty much through the day, and were 
on our road again as soon at it was prudent to travel. It had now become 
very hard work for me to walk. Not only were the soles of my feet badly 
blistered, but the toes were much swollen and festered, and the nails of 
some of them had come off; so that, when day began to break, warning us 
to seek a hiding place, I felt really unable to climb so far as prudence dic- 
tated ; and, entirely exhausted, threw myself down alongside a fallen tree, 
in some underbrush, not half way up the mountain side. The violent bark- 
ing of a hound which had found us out disturbed us. How mad I was as the 
whelp stood there, with glaring eyes and standing hair, regarding none of 



46 

my coaxings ! The voices of children crying out " Watch 'em, Brave ! " — 
the speculation as to what "Brave" had found, and the promise of the 
father, that, after breakfast they would go up and see, admonished us of our 
imprudence. But flight, at the moment, would only make matters worse ; 
so we laid quiet, in hope that " Brave " would soon tire of his barking watch 
— as he did. When his yelping ceased, we rose, hurried to another part of 
the mountain, and, with a prayer for safety, laid down, and, after a while, 
slept soundly. In this manner, travelling by night, hiding by day, avoiding 
every house, except when driven to one by the pangs of hunger, we made 
our way for eleven successive nights ; ojice becoming so hopelessly lost as 
to feel compelled, by very despair, to rouse the inmates of a farmhouse, to 
get directions as to our route. Fortunately, here again, the only occupants 
of the dwelling were aged people. The suspicion of the old man, who, in 
answer to our request, good-naturedly got up from his bed to put us on our 
way, was allayed by our telling him that we belonged to McNeil's command, 
and were in a hurry to get to Moorefield, as we had overstayed our leave of 
absence. "Then you don't want to go to Moorefield," said he, " for McNeil 
moved to Romney, yesterday." " It's McNeil, and not Moorefield or Rom- 
ney that we are after," said we ; and, changing his direction, the old fellow 
led us through the bushes, and putting us on a road, which he said led to 
Romney, forty miles distant, left us with a hearty wish for our success. Our 
situation was thus much bettered. We not only knew where we were, but 
the distance between us and our lines at "Clear Spring," for which place 
we now determined to aim ; but had the more important information that 
McNeil was directly in our path. Our progress had been, and still must nec- 
essarily be, slow ; owing not only to my feeble condition, but also because 
the weather was intensely hot, and, owing to the drought, water seldom to 
be met with ; and it was dangerous to ask for food. We had depended up- 
on finding berries in plenty, and running across a contraband occasionally ; 
but we had seen neither during any part of our journey. As for water, there 
was almost literally none. The bed of every stream was dry ; and we came 
across no springs. Never shall I forget my feelings at seeing, one night, by 
the faint light of a just rising moon, the glimmer of water a short distance 
ahead of us ! We made short work of reaching it, and driving out a hog, 
which had made his bed in it ! Sitting down, Doherty filled our canteen. 
It had been two nights and tzvo days since either of us had had a drop to 
drink.' I emptied the canteen at a draught ! and Doherty, after filling it 
again, did the same ! We sat awhile to rest and cool ourselves, for the night 
was exceedingly hot. Before starting, we thought best to take another 
drink ; but now both taste and smell were sickening ! Neither of us could 
swallow a drop ! But we filled the canteen, lest we should find no more, 
and started again. I am amused now, as I recall the calculations we made 
of our probable progress. Three nights more, and we should be safe be- 
neath the " old flag " ! The 54th Penn. had been stationed in the neighbor- 
hood of " Romney ; " and Doherty claimed to know every cross-road and 
mountain path between that place and Clear Spring. Alas ! ho'v vain all our 
calculations proved ! On our next night's travel we came to a fork of the 



47 

road which puzzled us. After reconnoitering a house near by, and finding 
it occupied by women only, we enquired of them, and learned that we were 
but eighteen miles from " Romney " by either road ; and that there was lit- 
tle choice between the two. 

Our route led up over the range which divided two valleys. The way 
was steep, and the latter part of it rough and uneven. I had been for some 
time anxious to stop for the night ; when suddenly the loud baying of hounds 
warned us of our nearness to some house, and a step or two opened into a 
clearing, and showed us plainly to the gaze of its owner, standing at the just 
opened door of his cabin. It would only excite suspicion to retreat ; so we 
boldly announced our desire to join McNeil at Romney, expressing a fear 
that we had lost our true road. Sure enough, we had. The old man kindly 
gave us directions by which to regain our route, and, following them, we 
soon got out of his sight, when we took to the woods for concealment. It 
had been cloudy, which, perhaps, was one cause of our going astray. At 
night we were again on the road, taking now the right, now the left hand 
path ; and in the morning laid ourselves down beside a fence in a thick piece 
of woods which bordered upon the roadside. A dense fog laid heavily up- 
on the land, and hid from us a house standing but a short distance from our 
resting place. We were both so nearly exhausted, and our feet were so sore 
from repeated blisters, that we took no more steps than we felt to be abso- 
lutely necessary. Still, had not the fog so completely hid the house, we 
should not have dared to have laid down where we did. We had not slept, 
when we were roused by the dropping of a set of bars,— the passing by of 
some cows,— and a good-natured voice asking us what we were doing 
there. It was the same class of man we had encountered twice before— old, 
gray-headed, long past his prime. There seemed to be no others in this 
country ! He was a Philadelphia lawyer for questions, some of which were 
hard to be evaded. Our old story, that we were McNeil's men, anxious to 
rejoin him, and travelling at night because we had overstayed our time of 
absence, seemed to satisfy him. He insisted upon our going to his house 
with him, which we did, thinking on the whole that it would be safer to do 
so than to refuse. Seeing how difficult it was for us to walk, he became 
suspicious again at my explanation of blistered feet. "Why, you soldiers 
ought to be toughened to it," said he. "You forget that we are mounted 
soldiers," said I. "That's so," said he. We each got a slice of bread of 
the old fellow, and learned that we had again lost our way, being now hven- 
fy-six miles from Romney, instead of eighteen, as two nights before. I am 
ashamed to say that I stole from the house a piece of bar soap, as a dressing 
for my sore and inflamed feet. I would have bought it ; but I had nothing 
but greenbacks, and was afraid to show them. Leaving the old man and 
his aged partner, we took to the road again, and, as soon as hidden by the 
fog, took to the cover of the heavy timber. 

Never could an> thing afford greater relief than this soap gave, spread in 
thick slices over the raw spots on my feet ! I slept nearly all day. At night 
we got along with no accident ; and by morning came out on the pike lead- 
ing from Winchester to Romney, about Jive miles from the latter place. 



48 

Here we begged a drink from a young girl who was milking by the road- 
side, and turned to the hill again for hiding. 

The day was spent in speculating as to the probable presence of McNeil 
at Romney ; the danger of being seen by any of his scouting parties, or of 
falling upon any of his pickets ; and my ability, if not interrupted, of walk- 
ing the distance remaining before us during the coming night. Doherty 
repeated, over and over again, the fact of his intimate acquaintance with the 
surrounding country, and his perfect knowledge of all the mountain paths 
and roads in the neighborhood. So that at night we started with increased 
confidence of success. We travelled slowly, and with great care ; stopping 
frequently to listen for any noise which would indicate the approach of any 
party, and to peer through the darkness for the faintest glimpse of any picket 
fire. We had no cause for alarm till we came in sight of Romney ; but it 
seemed as if every house in that village was lighted up ; and, after a moment 
for consultation, Doherty led the way across the fields, leaving the town 
well to the left— I following as fast as my crippled condition would allow. 
Each of us had many, but no serious falls, in this cross cut over the uneven 
country. We struck the road again about a mile and a half north and east 
of the town. It was necessary to do this ; because, directly ahead, ran the 
south branch of the Potomac, which we must cross on the bridge which 
spanned it there, or be compelled to keep along the mountain, for, we 
did not know how many more, days and nights. 

It was a night " as dark as Egypt," and we were tramping along. Doherty 
leading and I following as fast as I was able, when suddenly, from the dark- 
ness ahead, came the startling " halt ! who comes there ? " Before I could 
get up and interpose, Doherty answered "refugees." But to the next 
question I answered, giving my Christian and omitting my surname, as, on 
the whole, somewhat dangerous. To all the other questions, I answered 
with just the least grahi of truth, drawing from the sentinel the somewhat 
doubtful "Well ! I suppose it is all right, isn't it?'' and in a confident tone 

my own " Yes, you d d fool, do you suppose we should be here, with 

McNeil just in front, if it wasn't?" The sentinel (for such he was) made 
some reply, but in a tone of voice too low to be heard plainly. " LeVs run'^ 
said Doherty. "No," said I ; "he'll alarm the camp if we do; and there 
will be an end of me, if not of both of us." The sentinel's cross "what 
are you standing there for? are you going to keep me here all night?" 
admonished us. and we started towards him. It was too dark to enable 
either of us to see the other with any distinctness. Evidently, however, 
our new friend had some misgivings ; for he joined us as we came up, and 
walked some distance, questioning us somewhat closely, particularly as to 
where we came from, and where going. As he left us to go back to his 
post, a most unaccountable noise, on our left, gave us new alarm ; and it 
took some time and careful examinalion before we could determine that it 
came from a body of horses champing their rations of whole corn. A good 
deal relieved by this discovery, we came to the conclusion that the party 
had bivouacked in the woods, leaving a sentinel only on the road ; and that 
we had successfully passed all danger. Doherty still wanted to take to the 



49 

fields and run ; but I wouldn't, for I couldn't ; so we continued on the high- 
way. A few steps brought us to a sharp turn of the road, where was a col- 
lection of long low buildings ; among them a large barn. As we made the 
turn the scene which broke suddenly upon us, sent the blood curdling to 
our hearts, and almost completely paralyzed us. Directly in our front was 
a large mansion, brilliantly lighted from ground floor to garret, filled with a 
merry party of both sexes, enjoying themselves with music and dancing, 
while in the grounds around, groups of rebel soldiers, gathered about their 
camp fires, were bthily engaged in cooking. Fortunately for us, we had 
not passed from the shade of the barn ; and still more fortunately, the water, 
at some previous rains, had worn a gully across the road, at the very spot 
where our flight had been thus arrested. Instinctively we threw ourselves 
upon the ground, hardly daring to breathe, fearing each moment that we 
might be discovered. The sentinel who had allowed us to pass, now rode 
by, and asked of one of his comrades if he had "seen anything of two 
strange men." "I hain't seen nobody," was the reply. "Is that you, 
Bill?" was asked in turn. "Yes !" "Well, you'd better go back to your 
post, for if the old man finds out you've left it, you'll catch hell 1" "Well, 
I don't know as I done right in letting them pass!" "No matter; they 
can't get out if they have got in;" and, comforted by this assurance, 
our friend rode back to his post. Soon the order to " fall in for supper" 
drew the whole party round the fires ; and under cover of the darkness, 
caused by this movement, we crawled on our hands and knees across the 
road, in the gully in which we had been concealed, to what we thought a 
safe distance up the mountain side. We laid there a long while, listening 
anxiously for each sound from the party below. At length there was a lull 
in the music ; a heavy tread on the piazza floor, and a voice, which was 
recognized at once as McNeiPs, called "Sergeant Allen." "Aye, aye, Sir," 
responded the Sergeant. "Wake up Lieuts. Bradshaw and Scott, and then 
saddle. There were a few moments busy preparation ; and then the same 
voice, with these preliminary words, "half-past four is the time, boys," 
gave the order to "march." It seemed an age after the command filed 
away, before all was quiet in and around the house. During all the time, 
no persons ever hugged the groimd with a closer embrace than we did. The 
noise of closing doors at length satisfied us that everybody had left. We 
raised ourselves to a sitting position, and, " luhich way did they gof' was 
asked by each of the other at the same time. One knew no more than the 
other ; and in this uncertainty neither of us cared to move. Three miles 
ahead, upon our projected route, was a wire suspension bridge across the 
south branch of the Potomac ; and McNeil, as we well knew, whichever 
way he went, was too wary a soldier to leave that unpicketed. There was 
nothing left for us but, abandoning all hope of escape that night, to take to 
the mountains again for safety. So we did ; and made our bed in earthworks 
thrown up in the first year of the war. Here we enjoyed a sound sleep. 
At daybreak, Doherty, looking out upon the valley below us, informed me 
that the large brick building at our feet, where the " sound of revelry by 
night" had so startltd us, was upon an estate owned by a Mr. Inskip, a 



50 

well-known rebel. " I know," said he, "every path across these mountains ; 
have taken them thousands of times on my way to and from picket. There 
is a house a little way off, where we can get a good, square meal. I have 
had many a one in it, and I want to get on to ' Hangitig Rock ' (so called 
from its projecting part way over the pike beneath it) while it is light, and 
see if there is any picket on the bridge." I acknowledged that these were 
all good reasons, but still I told him I would not move ; it was dangerous 
enough at night, as our last night's experience proved ; it would be much 
more so in the day ; and besides, after getting safely so far, I should feel 
ashamed enough to be caught, as it were, within sight of home. And to 
convince him that I was in earnest, I stretched myself out for another nap. 
When I awoke, Doherty resumed the subject, and after hesitating long, I 
consented to start. The movement came near being a fatal one for us, 
however ; for all at once, without anything to give us warning, we came out 
upon a clearing wh^re young men — the only ones we had seen on our whole 
tramp — were engaged in mowing. As we came out from the woods, they 
caught sight of us, and dropping their scythes, made for their horses, which, 
saddled, were hitched to the fence. We dodged back to the protection of 
the woods, and bending to the right, hurried away as fast as we could. 
Whether they searched for us or not we could not tell. We kept on with 
all the speed we could muster, till in making our way down a mountain, 
we came to a deep gully, bordered on each side by high blackberry bushes, 
at the bottom of which ran a stream of beautifully clear water. We had 
now been out thirteen days, and had had but six slices of bread (each) to 
eat ; and we had suffered more than I can tell for want of water. So we 
gave ourselves up to this indulgence ; eat and drank, and drank and eat, 
till we could hold no more. With a parting sip, we turned away, having 
first filled our "canteen." We were now making our last climb before 
coming to "Hanging Rock." "I thought you told me that there was 
but one or two houses about here," said I to Doherty. "So I did," said 
he. "What's all this noise then, of driving cattle?" asked I. He could 
not tell, and we made our way more slowly, and with greater caution. 

Just before sundown we reached the top of the mountain, made our way 
carefully to " Hanging Rock," from which we were to get a sight of the 
bridge, and, to our dismay saw that the flats near it, on both sides of the 
river, were filled with cattle, horses, and wagons, all within a line of Rebel 
sentinels. Evidently our situation was not a safe one : and we started at 
once in search of a secure hiding place, and, deeming ourselves safe from 
observation, laid down among some bushes. Hardly had we done so, when 
our attention was attracted by the sound of voices, and the tread of a picket 
guard, as it passed on its way to some point in our rear, higher up the 
mountain. It marched past so near, and we saw them so distinctly, it 
seemed impossible they should not see us. But, thank God ! they did not 
discover us ! So, soon as they were out of hearing, crawling close to the 
ground, and stepping with the utmost care, we descended the mountain, 
and squeezed ourselves in between some huge rocks, whose sides rose far 
above our heads. From here we could catch a glimpse of the soldiers on 



51 

the opposite side of the river, and could plainly hear what was said by those 
who passed on the road beneath us. In this way we learned that the party 
was McNeil's; which, having made a raid on "Oldtown," in Maryland, 
the night before, was now returning with their plunder. Feehng that we 
were safe, we moved the loose stones which interfered with our comfort, 
and resting our backs against the rocks, which hid us from observation, gave 
ourselves to sleep. 

Morning dawned, and showed us that this party was still encamped. 
Towards noon all had gone, save a party (a picket, probably) , who, although 
not visible, we could hear conversing beneath us. Nothing disturbed us 
during the day or night. We were awakened the next morning by the sound 
of distant cannonading, which fell faintly but with perfect distinctness upon 
our ears. Doherty, who alone, from his service in this region, might have 
made something of it, could not locate it. Before long, a small party of 
Rebel Cavalry came in sight. Soon a larger party appeared, wounded men 
in carriages, supporting each other, or held up by comrades apparently 
unwounded, army wagons, pieces of artillery, ambulances, caissons, all 
mingled in confusion, and a party of mounted Infantry, each man having a 
large bundle of straw strapped behind him, and all urging their animals to 
a speed unusual on a march. What did it all mean ? The sound of the 
cannonading, and the sight of the wounded men, plainly enough indicated 
that the party had been engaged. Which party was victorious was a matter 
of more concern to us ; and we strained our ears to catch, if possible, some 
word which would relieve our anxiety. At length the voice of some one 
urging his horse along the road and past the confused mass, enquiring 
"Where's the General? Where's McCausland?" gave us a knowledge of 
whose the command was. The anxious enquiry by one, of "Where do you 
suppose Averill is ?" was met by the taunting reply, " Don't you fret ; you'll 
see him as soon as you want to !" The question by one, "Where do you 
suppose McNeil is?" was answered by another, who gave the confident 
assurance that " He promised he would tear up the railroad, and he never 
yet had disappointed them." All these things, and many others, were full 
of interest to us, but did little to relieve our anxiety. The column had 
passed by, and the perfect silence below and above us was leading to the 
belief that the pickets had been witdrawn, when the rapid tread, on the 
pike below, of a horse coming from the direction of Romney ; the sharp 
question, "Where are you going, Major?" and the reply, "Over to the 
other Brigade," drove from the minds ot each ol us all thoughts of further 
travel that night. We had learned at Harrisonburg, on the march of the 
Rebel army down the Valley, that McCausland was brigaded with Bradley 
Johnson ; and now the inference was irresistible that the "other Brigade " 
was Johnson's— probably at Springfield, across the river. So another night's 
confinement was before us, and still longer acute suff-ering (for such it had 
now become) from hunger and thirst. With the early morning the rear guard 
of this force marched awav, and all became silent as death. This silence 
was so long and unbroken, that Doherty urged our leaving at once. I 
refused to stir. " Look down there. Colonel," said he, pointing to a house 



52 

on the flat below us ; "I have eaten many a good meal at that house, and / 
shall die if I don't get something to eat right away. Come, now ! We can't 
either of us stand this longer ! Let's start !" But I refused, and urged him 
strongly to bear our condition till evening. It was to no purpose, however ; 
and with a promise on his part to be very careful in making his way out 
from our hiding place, we shook hands, and, with a wish for mutual success, 
parted. Left thus alone, I was wondering whether I had not been foolish 
to consent to the separation, when Doherty's hurried return roused me. 
He had, while still within the protection of the woods, caught sight of the 
glimmer of the bayonets of a picket on the mountain. He zvas n" t now so 
hungry as he had been! and, if only he had not been seen, was willing to 
stay in hiding as long as I pleased. 

We remained closely hid all day, nothing occurring which gave us any 
uneasiness. Late in the afternoon, a horseman jogged along below us, 
unchallenged. In the belief that our way was now clear, we crept from our 
hiding place, and cautiously made our way down the mountain, and skirted 
its base till we reached a point opposite the bridge. There was no picket 
stationed at it. But what seemed worse was the fact that its suspension 
wires had been thrown off their supporting piers, 07i one side ; and it was 
hanging by the strands of the wire ropes of one side alone. It didn't seem 
possible to cross it, if we waited for night, if, indeed, we could pass it any- 
how ; and in very desperation we determined to attempt the matter at once. 
Our footing was the railing on the side of the bridge. Steadying ourselves 
as well as we could, by grasping the connecting stay rods, we did cross.* (I 
could not have done it with my one serviceable arm, had not Doherty 
helped me.) Almost immediately we came full upon a party of men, by 
the side of the road, whose nods and whisperings alarmed us much. There 
was nothing for us but to march by as unconcernedly as possible, and, once 
out of their sight, to take to the woods and hide again. It was near morn- 
ing when we started again ; and having succeeded in flanking Springfield, 
turned away for our last rest before reaching our lines. We were now 
nearing a new danger. The old soldiers, who had been detailed to guard 
the bridges and stations along the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, had been 
drawn off by Sigel and Hunter, for their expedition up the Valley, and 
their places had been filled by the loo days men, as they were called, who 
were neither well drilled or disciplined. There was danger, on approaching 
the outposts at any of these stations, after dark, lest the sentinel, in the 
nervousness springing from his inexperience, shouldy?;-^ before he challenged. 
So, in view of this danger, we started early in the afternoon, kept the cover 
of the woods for a while, and when within two or three miles of our 
journey's end, came out upon the pike, which we boldly followed. No 
sign of life disturbed us as we limped along. We reached the smouldering 
fires and smoking ruins which marked where a railroad station had been, 
unchallenged. One house only of the little village was standing, at the 
door of which stood two females exulting over the destruction. An applica- 
tion for admittance to the house, and for food, was denied ; and we turned 
away, to cross the Potomac into "Oldtown," Maryland. The foot bridge 



53 

had been also destroyed ; and Doherty led the way to the " ford " below. 
We entered the water, which sent a chill through our bodies. The stream 
was swift, and it was with great difficulty that we made way against the 
force of the current. The crossing made, we sat down on the bank, to 
wring the water from our clothes. That done, we set out for the village. 
" Halt, there !" sang out a long-legged fellow, dressed in the uniform of our 
cavalry, and who came out of a house near by, and made his way to us. 
But we did not care to stop ; and he soon overtook us. " Where are you 
going?" he asked. " Up to a tavern, if there is any here," was answered, 
and he led the way. It was quite dark ; so that, unnoticed by us, quite a 
crowd followed on after. 

Just as we reached the door of the hotel, the old landlady was about 
shutting up for the night. Our civil request to be furnished with supper 
brought the ungracious response "that we could not have any." "Why 
not, my dear Madame ?" " It's too late to be cooking supper for anybody, 
to-night," " You can give us some bread and milk, can't you ? we are very 

hungry." "No." "Why not?" " That d d McNeil has driven away 

all my cows." "Well, you can give us some bread and butter, surely!" 
"Yes; I suppose I can do that," and off she went on the errand. The 
crowd which had followed us, now pressed round, clamorous to know our 
names and business, and destination, and where we came from ; to but few of 
which questions were any direct replies made. Matters were fast getting 
unpleasant for us, when the old lady announced that our supper was ready. 
We ate it without ceremony ; and almost stifled by the closeness of the room 
(every window being shut down) and unsuspicious of any pending trouble, 
stepped to the door for a breath of fresh air. A crowd of some eighty to 
one hundred people stood crowding around the door, and shouts of "make 
them atiswer,^' greeted us as we made our appearance. A little bantam ot 
a fellow, with a musket almost as large as he was, touching me on the 
shoulder, demanded to be informed who we were, etc. "Friends," I an- 
swered. " But that won't do," he said. "Where did you come from?" 
" Romney." " Where are you going ?" " Martinsburg," — (most unfortunate 
answer, for Early held the place, a fact which at the time was unknown to 
us). "What do you want there?" "That's none of your business ;" and 
thereupon the crowd shouted, "They are spies, take them to the guard 
house !" It was getting serious ; and I offered, if there was a decent man 
among them, who would come into the house and listen, that I would tell 
our story, and satisfy him that there was nothing to fear from us ; but that I 
would not talk to the crowd around. So a spruce, gentlemanly-looking 
man was pushed to the front, who led the way into a side room, wherein lay 
a wounded Rebel officer, victim of the little affair of the Tuesday before, 
the cannonading from which had awakened us in our retreat. To this man, 
I told, without reservation, the whole history of our escape, and everything 
connected with it ; and I confess was indignant when I concluded, to hear 
him say "that he reckoned it was all right, but he was peculiarly situated, 
and he didn't think he could satisfy the people outside. " Of course, nothing 
more could be done on our part, and so we followed him to the door. He 



54 

did nothing to try and relieve us ; and again my little friend with the musket 
ordered us to go with him to the guard house. We still refused ; and some 
one in the crowd sang out, " IV/iere's Thresher? send for Thresher!" A 
short, thick-set man soon made his appearance, to whom I gave our history 
as before, and from whom I received a hearty grasp of the hand, and an 
assurance that he would set all right. He did so in a few words, and the 
crowd at once dispersed. It was now past one o'clock, and I turned to the 
landlady with a request for a bed. " You can't sleep in this house, to-night," 
she said. "Why, what's the matter, now?" I asked. "Why, McNeil may 
come back to-night ; and if he should, and you were in the house, you could 
not get away so easily," was her answer. " Well, come Doherty, it's only 
one night more ; let us be off!" But as I turned, this Mr. Thresher an- 
nounced his intention of going into the woods with us. Waiting for him to 
go after a covering, we followed as he led the way into the mountains, where 
already some twenty of the citizens of the place, afraid to remain at their 
homes, were soundly sleeping. A dense fog had settled down upon the 
earth. We lay and shivered, but could not sleep ; and at* the early dawn, 
made our way to the tavern which had been so inhospitably closed against 

us the night before. Here, at breakfast, we met Capt Squires, of the 

Virginia Cavalry, down from Cumberland, in command of a small scouting 
party. We learned from him the situation of affairs in the valley, and by 
his advice concluded to make our way to Cumberland. It was nineteen 
miles there, and neither of us were in a condition to walk any farther. But 
horses were not to be obtained for love or mofiey. All that McNeil had not 
robbed these people of had been driven into the mountains for safety. We 
must walk or stay where we were. So taking directions from Capt. Squires, 
we got on to the tow path of the canal, and started. It wanted a few min- 
utes of seven o'clock when we set forth. Nobody can imagine how we 
suffered, as we struggled on in this, our first exposure for months to the 
rays of the sun. At half-past two we were at the mouth of Patterson's 
Creek, only seven miles from our starting place, and looking across the 
river, caught sight of a repair party at work upon a partially burned railroad 
bridge ; and what seemed better, something which we took to be a locomo- 
tive engine. So, spite of the shouts and gestures of the working party, who 
watched us narrowly, we plunged into the river, and after many tumbles 
and much trouble, succeeded in crossing. Our friends had been endeavor- 
ing to make us understand, by their gestures, etc., that the river was i ot 
fordable ; but we could not hear what was said, till it seemed easier to keep 
on than to return. As we came up from the river, faint and exhausted, our 
appearance attracted the attention of three gentlemen who were enjoying 
the shade of some large trees at the station house. I had called a young 
boy to me, and sent him off to get us some milk. At his departure one of 
these gentlemen came up to where we were sitting, with the remark, "You 
are pretty well played out, I see; how far have you been travelling?" 
"From Oldtown." " That would not have worn you so!" "The sun is 
dreadfully hot, and we are n't used to it." Eyeing us still more sharply— 
" You are soldiers !" he said. " Well, that's a good one," said I. "Oh, 
you need not deny it ; I can see that plainly enough ! But you need not be 



55 

afraid of me, if you are in Virginia. My name is Everett. I'm a cousin ol 
Edward Everett, who was Governor of Massachusetts ; you've heard of him, 
I reckon, and I am a thorough-going Union man. You want to go to Cum- 
berland? Well, come up to my house, eat dinner with me, and to-night, 
when the engine comes down to take back these men here, I'll get a place 
for you on the train." I met this frank speech with equal plainness, and 
told him our story. As we were on the way to his house, we met the boy 
(his son) with a pitcher of milk. " Don't drink that now," said he, "wait 
and have some whiskey first, and then, with your dinner, you may have all 
the milk you want. That's my advice as a medical man." And so we went 
to his house, drank his whiskey, ate his dinner, took his milk, and engaged 
in conversation till the noiseof the engine warned us it was time to separate. 
Accompanying us to the train, he helped us on board, shook hands as he 
bid us good-bye, with a wish for our success, and we steamed away. 

Reaching Cumberland, I reported at Department Headquarters. " How 
are you, Colonel ? how did you get here ? and where, in heaven's name, 
have you been?" exclaimed Gen. Kelley, as, jumping from his seat, he 
grasped my hand. " I heard of you, long ago, as having escaped ; and not 
seeing you, or hearing anything of you, concluded you had been retaken, 
or had died on your way." "Heard of me, General ! How could that 
have been?" "Some one of our men, who got away when you did, came 
in more than ten days ago, and reported !" The mystery was soon solved, 
by the appearance of our hospital cook. He had been allowed by the guard 
to pass and repass at all hours ; was out of the hospital when we left ; at 
his return, looked first for Doherty, and then for Snow, neither of whom 
could he find ; recalled the fact that they had been consulting closely the 
day before ; came to the conclusion that they had escaped ; turned on his 
heels, was allowed to pass out, went to a neighboring house, where lived a 
young girl he had been making love to ; roused her, and exchanged his 
clothes for an old suit of her father's, which she threw out of the window ; 
started off; walked all night ; and, after a good nap, started the next day, 

in broad daylight ; was halted by one of a party of loyal men called , 

organized to resist conscription in their region ; was conducted to the officer 
in command, to whom he told his story ; was taken to a neighboring house, 
where he was given his meals, and kept secreted till night ; — then mounted 
on horseback and guided safely on his way till morning ; — when he was 
again ushered into a farmhouse, where he was fed and kept through the day, 
as before ; when, mounted upon another horse, he was again guided on his 
way. And so, concealed and well-cared for by day, — and riding from 
station to station by night, — he made, in a iveek's time, a pleasant journey ; 
while we, unaided, had had seventeen days of toil, exposure, suffering 
and danger. 

Seeing my enfeebled condition, Gen. Kelley sent for Dr. Lewis, surgeon 
at the General Hospital at Claryville, to whom he gave me in charge. Here 
I was given the luxury of a warm bath ; — was furnished with a change of 
underclothing, after my wounds, which were in a sad state, were dressed ; — 
and, refreshed by a delicious supper and the cool breezes of the mountain, 
I rested in the quiet enjoyment of my accomplished escape. 



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